Say Goodbye to Yesterday
by Heather68
Summary: The Ministry of Magic has put forth a new program to retrain Death Eaters once the war is done, and Draco Malfoy is one of the many candidates. But how well can Harry cope with the task of keeping an eye on Draco?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Say Good-bye To Yesterday

**Author:** Heather68

**Giftee:** Sesheta66

**Pairings:** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny, implied Harry/Oliver

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word Count:** 30,471

**Summary:** The Ministry of Magic has put forth a new program to retrain Death Eaters once the war is done, and Draco Malfoy is one of the many candidates. But how well can Harry cope with the task of keeping an eye on him?

**Author Notes:** Written for the anonymous exchange on livejournal at hpslashnotsmut. The request was for plot post HBP where Harry had to deal with Draco after the events of the book and that they still get into a relationship. Also she wanted mentor!Snape and it's Snape, who am I to resist that request?

Beta'd by Rakina, Arenas, and Xos2ed

* * *

_Part One_

"I hate him, he's scum. He's even scummier than scum. He's the stuff that grows out of scum," Harry groused, taking another sip of the Firewhisky set before him. The amber liquid burned as it traveled down his throat, warming him from the inside out. He sighed happily before setting the bottle on the table with a click. He was pleasantly buzzed and he was happy to keep himself in that state, especially after the piss-poor morning he'd been having.

"I hear you, mate." Ron thumped him on the back and he missed Hermione's irritated scowl. Harry chuckled harshly, while he tipped his bottle back once again. When no liquid touched his lips, he pulled the glass back with a mournful sigh. Empty. It joined the last three bottles he'd downed in the past two hours. His lunch break, which is when he had left, had been over for over an hour now. He wasn't concerned; it was the farthest thing from his mind. Work could bugger off for all he cared. If they fired him, they'd look bad, letting the Boy Who Lived Twice go without a good, solid reason. Harry had half a mind to let them do it, so he could gain public sympathy and put the entire program to rest, then maybe he wouldn't have to feel like he was about to vomit.

"I mean," he began again, his vision blurring as he looked at Hermione plaintively, "Can you believe they're actually letting him…letting him out? Malfoy? Of all people! You know, I would have f-fully supported the Ministry if they had decided to round up the whole lot of them and give them all the Kiss." He made a loud, wet smacking sound with his lips for emphasis.

"Harry James Potter, how could you say such things?"

Harry blinked, his movements sluggish as he tipped his head to the side in confusion. Hermione's moods made no sense to him. One second she was completely agreeing with him, and the next... He had no idea what he had done, or said. He snorted and lifted the same bottle he had cast aside moments ago, trying to take a long pull from it.

"Harry!" cried Hermione. She stood up, furious, her eyes seemed to be spitting flames. The image of a fire-breathing Hermione dragon made him laugh. That was, until the woman had to go and tug his ear and topple him from his bar stool.

"Hey, what did you do that for!" he yelped, stumbling as she dragged him forcefully from the bar and onto the crowded Muggle London street. He whined pitifully as she dug her nails into the shell of his ear. His eyes were watering by the time she had dragged him into a side alley and let go of his ear with a rough shove.

He glared at her and brought a hand up to rub his ear with a petulant scowl.

"What is wrong with you?" Hermione demanded, flinging her hands into the air. "Have you completely lost it?"

"Wha's wrong wif me? Wha' the hell is wrong wif you?! You hate him too, did, do, hate him."

"Yes," she said impatiently, "But then I grew up, something you clearly have yet to do!"

Harry glared at her angrily, his eyes crossing, before refocusing. "Don' yell at me like yer my mum, Hermy-ione!"

"Then stop acting like a toddler. For God's sake, Harry you're twenty-four not eleven, and neither is Malfoy."

"Just what are you im-imp…shaying?" The world tilted alarmingly as he took a threatening step towards her… or maybe he didn't. The brick wall dug into his back, the chill of the stones seeping through his shirt.

"I'm saying you're acting like an immature little brat and I'm sick of it."

"Yeah, well!" Harry pulled out his wand, ignoring the frightened look on his best friend's face as if he was going to curse her. Just who did she think he was? Harry Potter did not go about hexing innocents even when they disagreed with him. Closing his eyes, he managed to concentrate on the inside of his flat, and, with a loud crack, he disappeared, not realizing he'd left an eyebrow and a sneaker behind.

* * *

"Potter!" 

Harry groaned and cradled his head in his hands. Work wasn't supposed to come home. It just wasn't done! So, then, why was his boss in his living room waving a file in his face?

"Yes?" he growled.

"Did you forget you were on assignment?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked, throwing the file next to Harry on the sofa where he was sitting.

There was a long pause while Harry tried to find the nicest terms possible to tell someone to bugger off. When nothing was forthcoming he gave up and settled for his traditional surly expression.

"No, how could I forget _that_?" he sneered. All he wanted was some _Nurofen_ and his bed, or possibly some strong coffee and his bed. Either way, he really just wanted his bed and to forget this day ever happened. He didn't want to be talking about Malfoy again. It was bad enough that all he could think about was the skinny little ferret. He did not want to discuss how he would be forced into close quarters with the other man, even if it were only for a day, and just to make sure the prat didn't kill himself and save Harry the effort of doing it himself.

Shacklebolt sighed and ran a hand down his long face. Another long moment of silence occurred when the tall, bald black man just looked around the room as if searching for something. Harry sucked in his cheeks and glared up at him. He might be his boss, but that didn't give him the right to barge into his house uninvited.

"Harry." Kingsley looked at him and Harry squirmed beneath the stare. "Are you drunk?"

"No, boss."

"Harry," he warned.

Harry frowned, hugged a silver-trimmed throw pillow to his stomach, and glared at a blank spot on the wood floor. "Maybe," he finally said. Reluctantly, he brought his glazed-over eyes back up to meet stern brown ones. Harry suddenly wished the couch would swallow him whole. This was bleeding unfair! He bet others didn't get hounded like this when they skived off work; only him, the bloody Boy Who Lived. His scowl returned with a vengeance.

Freezing cold water splashed him in the face, the sting of it needle sharp. It drenched his hair and clothing, making it impossible to see through his glasses. Gaping, he could only blink in shock for a few seconds. Finally, he sputtered, water dripping out of his mouth and off his hair onto his nose. He wiped at his sodden face, suddenly very alert, painfully so.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You Apparated from a pub like this, didn't you?"

"So what if I did? It's not like I'm missing anything!"

Kingsley stared pointedly at his forehead, amusement scrawled over his face. Harry's eyes widened as he brought a hand up, immediately realized what was gone. "Shit."

* * *

Harry stretched, removing his glasses and setting them on the enamel surface of the desk. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he stared up at the pockmarked ceiling. He hated the paperwork aspect of his job with a passion. Although, he thought ruefully, this really was his fault. It served him right for being such a bastard the day before. 

He had rung Hermione that morning to apologize, but she hadn't answered. The idea that she might have been at a class never crossed his mind until he had arrived at work. He still hadn't heard back from her, but he knew he would, if only because she would want to yell at him some more. He reckoned he deserved it. Well, not all of it. He still held true to the idea that Malfoy was scum, but saying that all Death Eaters deserved the Dementor's Kiss had been a bit callous of him. Harry also suspected she'd have a thing or two to say about the letter of warning he had received from his boss last night.

He was going to have to use Portkeys to get anywhere for the next month. His Apparation license had been suspended because he'd been an idiot. That still smarted a bit even if it had been for his own good. He hated Portkeys, however, it was either that or Flooing and if there was one thing he hated more than Portkeys, it was the Floo system.

The stack of paper beside him wasn't big enough to call a mountain, so he settled on calling it a rolling hill instead. A nice, big rolling hill of paperwork and it was all for him. Harry groaned as he picked up the first report. There was a reason he'd put this off to the last possible minute. It was no secret that he had made it onto the task force by notoriety and dedication alone. No one had bothered to find out what his writing and organizing skills were like. He wished Hermione would hurry up and call him back. He needed her wisdom and fabulous paper-writing skills more than ever.

"Harry, think fast!"

Harry held up a hand, catching the sandwich as it came hurtling towards his head. He grinned up at the redhead standing in the doorway. "Are you coming in or are you going to lurk about my door?"

Ron laughed and entered the office space. Harry had once thought it a grand thing to have an office; this was before he discovered that having an office meant paperwork. He picked up his glasses and put them back on, both his office and his friend becoming clear once again.

"Don't you ever file these?" Ron asked, snatching up a manila folder. He flipped through the contents with a bored expression, before tossing it back on Harry's desk.

"Do you?" Harry returned, taking the wrapping off his ham and cheese sandwich.

Ron snorted. "No, and no normal bloke here does."

"Unless they've been stuck on office duty," Harry pointed out with false enthusiasm. Ron gave him a sympathetic look. He rolled his eyes, taking a bite out of his sandwich. "Kingsley found out I Apparated drunk last night."

"Rough bit of luck, mate."

"You're telling me, and on top of this," he gestured with his sandwich towards the not-so-tidy pile of papers, "I have to go and see Malfoy this afternoon."

"You really do have the worst luck in the world."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said dryly, taking another languid bite of his lunch.

"Any time."

Harry chucked a bit of lettuce that had fallen out his sandwich at his friend. "Piss off then, I've got work to do."

Ron laughed and wagged his finger at him before he left the office.

Harry leaned back in his chair with a pleased expression and looked at the spread of work before him. He polished off his lunch in another five bites, before picking up the first file on his desk. It was Malfoy's. A scowl curled at the corner of his lips and he tossed it at the paper basket beside his desk. It missed and the papers scattered over his floor. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance and pulled out his wand. He haphazardly cleaned up the mess and levitated the folder back over the edge of the desk and let it drop with a plop. It wasn't a particularly thick folder compared to some of the others littering his desk, but he couldn't bring himself to open it. He didn't care what crimes Malfoy had committed, just that he had in fact committed them. He didn't care what his blood type was, or what he had been acquitted from.

He did not want to sully himself with Draco Malfoy's folder. It was bad enough in another half an hour he'd have to go and visit him in person. He did not need to feel any more disgusted than he already felt. They would assign him to Malfoy just to spite him. It wasn't like there weren't other Aurors, more qualified ones, that could take this assignment. He had no doubts that this was just a way of his superiors testing him, and it angered him. Hadn't he proved himself enough over the past six years for them to realize he wasn't just some stupid kid? That he'd got the job not because he was the Boy Who Lived and defeater of Voldemort (which in its own right really should have been enough for them to accept that he was legitimate), but because he actually deserved his spot and his own team.

If he knew he wouldn't get sacked for doing it, he would have passed on the assignment to one of his underlings. They basically jumped at his beck and call and would lie on a puddle to keep his shoes dry if he asked them to. He wouldn't, though.

Sighing, he tapped his quill on his desktop twice before standing. He might as well get it over with. As long as he saw Malfoy and made contact with him he could go home and sleep the event off. He just knew that this was a bad idea. Ron gave him an encouraging smile as he passed his desk and he couldn't help but wonder if it was easy working under him sometimes. Ron never complained to him about it, but sometimes the scowls Hermione threw him were enough to know he had done something wrong. He couldn't possibly be that unapproachable, especially not since Ron was his best friend.

Harry wandered through the corridors of the Ministry of Magic with a petulant expression on his face. What a perfect killjoy, going to see Draco Malfoy. He fingered his wand as he neared the holding cells. A healer was waiting for him outside the door, as was expected, to fill him on the prisoner's health. The woman was middle aged with rosy cheeks, a warm smile and a pile of brown hair that was done up in a bun. She extended her hand, which he took without hesitation. He really didn't intend on staying very long. Kingsley had only said he had to see Malfoy, he hadn't said they needed to trade secrets and pal around like they were mates. They could only ask so much of him.

"Mr. Potter, I was hoping you'd come this afternoon," she said brightly. "I'm Matilda Leavenworth, Draco's personal healer."

Harry quirked a brow. "Personal healer?"

"Yes, I have been Mr. Malfoy's healer since birth. I know his records forwards and backwards. That's why they hired me for his case."

"Case?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling miles behind. "What case?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?" She shifted uncomfortably as she waited for his answer. He didn't blame her, most Aurors arrived fully informed, but Harry hadn't even touched Malfoy's file and he wondered if perhaps he should have. If there was something wrong with him, then his case had just become harder, and that marginally pissed him off.

Harry shook his head. Matilda sighed and gestured towards the window in the shut door. "Take a look inside," she instructed. He gazed at her for a long second before following her instructions. He peered into the square room with an irritated sigh and almost gasped in shock. As it were, his face went pale and that was nearly as disturbing as gasping. He'd seen worse before. The War hadn't exactly been a clean-cut affair. There was bloodshed, loss of limbs, beheading and death, but nothing like this.

He turned to look at the plump healer, his fingers resting on the tiny indent between door and window. "That's Malfoy?"

"Yes. That is Draco Lucien Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy estate and a prisoner from Azkaban. He doesn't look well, does he?"

Harry glared at the witch and then turned back to the small window with a surly expression. He knew she was trying to make him feel guilty, but it wouldn't work. It didn't matter that the very sight of Malfoy made his stomach churn and his throat clench in sympathy. "Does he eat?"

"Only when we force him to," Matilda answered in gentle tones. She clutched her clipboard to her chest, drumming her fingers on the back of it in a nervous gesture. "And even then his system sometimes regurgitates it."

He pinched his nose and reached for the handle. "Can I go in and see him?"

"Yes, of course." Matilda grabbed and turned the handle, pushing the door open for him. "He is your charge."

Harry groaned at the reminder. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter."

He took that as his cue and stepped into the sterile, white-washed room. Nothing decorated the walls and there wasn't a single window. What was worse, Harry discovered after spending approximately five seconds in the room, was that the dim lights cast shadows upon the prisoner's face, distorting the visible features and hiding the rest. It was cold, it was uncomfortable, and it was no wonder Malfoy wasn't getting well. His situation here wasn't any better than in Azkaban.

Taking a deep breath of the cold air, Harry made his way across the short room and stood with his knees to Malfoy's knees, scowling down at him. "Malfoy," he snapped. Not even a flicker. The blond stayed perfectly still, the only indication that he was alive was the lethargic blinks of his eyelids every few seconds. Harry growled. He really did not have the patience to be dealing with this, at least not today. Fuck Kingsley for assigning him this mess, fuck him for making Harry take care of it, and fuck him for having the gall to tell him to do it today! Clearly, Kingsley just wanted to make his life more miserable than it already was. Stuck with Malfoy the Vacant Wonder, unable to Apparate away, and then having to fill out paperwork on this wholly miserable case. Malfoy would be better off in Azkaban than in the Muggle world. If the man couldn't even respond to his name, how the hell was he going to take care of himself?

"He's unresponsive, I already told you," Matilda stressed, settling a warm hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry shrugged her off and squatted in front of Malfoy, scanning his eyes for any hint of recognition, but there was none.

"Could you give me a moment?" he grunted, not breaking his gaze. Harry waited until she had retreated and closed the door behind her. She would be watching through the window. Technically Aurors weren't supposed to be alone with the prisoners, but when had he ever followed the rules?

"Fuck, Malfoy, it's me Potter, you know, your nemesis? You used to make my life miserable, remember?" Nothing, not even a solid blink. "Surely you can't forget me? I was your master's worst nightmare. I killed him, you know. I'm not sure what sort of information you get in Azkaban, but I did it, I succeeded in ridding the world of the worst Dark Lord since Grindelwald. I didn't do it alone, of course. I had the whole Order backing me. Do you even know what the Order is, Malfoy? Nah, of course you do, all the Death Eaters knew about us. Your father became intimately aware of us before his death.

"Did they tell you your father died? He had his slimy soul sucked out of his body like milk from a bottle. I was there, you know. They let me watch because I was the one who captured him." Harry could feel his frustration reaching a critical point. Malfoy had to be hearing some of this, the old Malfoy would have responded. He'd punch him in the face without any remorse and then cast some nasty hex at him. This Malfoy was pitifully boring and it galled him. How could Malfoy remain so unaffected by his presence? Any time he even thought the name 'Malfoy' he got a sour taste in his mouth. Malfoy, though, appeared to be more in tune with the floating dust than with his visitor. What had happened to him that he had turned into this _thing_? This lifeless waste of space.

"You're pathetic, Malfoy, and you always were. From the moment I met you I knew I didn't like you. I guess my gut instincts were right, weren't they? You're nothing but a lowlife. A scum-sucking creature that needs to be stamped out. Lucky for you the ministry is keeping an eye on my actions because I'd certainly feel no remorse in killing you right now, and end your entire family with one little curse.

"So much for the high and mighty Malfoy family! Your father is dead, your mother is clinically insane and here you are unresponsive, no more alert than a tree stump. I visited your mother recently. She's a lovely lady, if not completely crazy. She seemed to think I was you. Kept calling me her precious baby and telling me daddy didn't mean it. Didn't mean what, ferret? What did your precious daddy do to you that put your mum in the loony bin?"

Harry growled, set a hand on Malfoy's shoulder and shook him. The blond's head lolled on his neck before falling forward, but aside from that, there was no voluntary action, not even a shudder of disgust. Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, or maybe do both. No one else on the force had their prisoner give them as much grief, at least not this kind. Admittedly some fought against the idea of living as a Muggle without magic, but more often than not they were willing to get back to their families in any way possible. Malfoy had no one to go back to, and Harry wasn't even sure the ponce knew it.

"I'd feel worse if you hadn't been an unbelievable snot to me. You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for Snape's sacrifice. As a matter of fact you would have got the Kiss the moment you were captured. Aren't you lucky? A lucky ferret. You little crybaby, you're a complete pushover. An insane, jealous prat. You always prattled on about my scar as if it was something I was proud of. I wasn't, you could have had it for all I care, and the fame that went with it. You would have loved it. Lived it up to the fullest, but no, not even you could resist the power Voldemort was offering. It came around and bit you in the arse, didn't it?

"No one else would have run to Moaning Myrtle to cry their eyes out like a little girl, no one else would have made a big scene over a tiny little scrape on the arm, no one else ran to their daddy when they got in trouble. Where's your daddy to run to now, huh, Malfoy?" he taunted, anger coursing out of control. "He can't save you, not when you need him most. The Malfoy name is mud – it's worse than mud, it's the little crawlies that live in the mud and you've got no one to hide behind any more.

"I'm so glad I didn't accept your hand that day on the train or I would have fallen in with the 'wrong sort'."

"Potter."

Harry fell flat on his arse in shock. Malfoy was looking straight at him, not through him, but right at him. "Malfoy?"

The blond glared down at him and Harry could feel his initial anger returning. He steeled himself, waiting for the cutting remark that was sure to come, but nothing happened. It was like whatever switch had been turned on in Malfoy's brain was back off again.

"Malfoy!" he snapped, hoping he'd get a reaction of some sort. "Malfoy, you bleeding idiot, if you bollocks this up for me I swear-"

He reached out and touched the other man's knee. Malfoy flew into action and launched off the bench. He scrambled beneath the wooden seat and huddled into a ball before Harry could even move forward. The healer opened the door, but Harry didn't notice. He crawled forward on hands and knees, now more confused than irritated. He reached out a hand and hesitantly rested it on the emaciated blond's shoulder. Nothing happened, just like before. Malfoy had gone completely inside himself once again and Harry sighed.

"Mr. Potter, what did you do?"

Harry looked over his shoulder in fear. Matilda was looming over him with her hands on her hips and a concerned expression. "N-nothing," he stammered, quickly getting to his feet.

She sighed, scribbled something on her clipboard and knelt beside him, before talking again. "That was the first time he has responded to anyone in five months. We've been trying everything imaginable to get him back in working order, but those damned Dementors-"

"Wait, what Dementors?" Harry asked harshly, his head whipping to the side to look at her.

"Help me with him first," she ordered, already hooking an arm underneath Malfoy's armpit. Harry grabbed Malfoy's hands and carefully pulled them from around his knees so they could pull his legs straight. They maneuvered him around until they could pull him out from beneath the bench. Harry hefted him into his arms finally realizing just how badly off the blond was. Ron and Hermione's twins combined would weigh more than him and that was distressing, because the twins were four. He settled Malfoy on the long bench and stepped backwards so Matilda could get the other man's life signs.

Kingsley wanted him gone by that night, but there was no way in hell Harry was moving Malfoy anywhere, not today if he had any say in it. He'd be safer in Matilda's care than left in some house in the country alone. It was bad enough that he was feeling bad for the git, but now he was going to risk his job by once again defying direct orders. Merlin, if Malfoy got him fired he'd kill him with his bare hands. He wouldn't need his wand to do it.

"Dementors," Harry repeated with a modicum of urgency. There shouldn't have been any Dementors in Azkaban when Malfoy was there, they were all supposed to be gone! That's why it was still possible to reprogram the Death Eaters to become part of civilized society again. The Ministry wasn't daft. The people implementing these programs knew what they were doing, or at least he suspected they did enough planning to realize the pros and cons. This was insane. He wasn't supposed to have to worry about Malfoy dying from neglect.

He gritted his teeth as he pulled out the thin metal bracelet and snapped it around Malfoy's frail wrist. Taking another one from his pocket, he attached it to his own wrist and adjusted it so that it was snug against his skin but no longer pinching. It was a sad thing to see the same piece of jewelry hanging loosely off Malfoy's wrist – he could stick two fingers through it, but Harry had his own on the last hook and it was right against his skin.

"Tell me, Healer Leavenworth."

Matilda gently folded Malfoy's hands so they were resting on his stomach and then swept a lock of greasy hair off his face. "The Ministry reinstated Dementors to guard the cells of the worst people in Azkaban."

"But Malfoy wasn't even high security."

She shook her head; a few strands of brown hair fell out of her loose bun. "You're right he wasn't, but his father was, and his father was in the cell next to him."

"They didn't-" Harry started, horrified. "I was there when Lucius was given the Kiss. They did it in a private room inside the ministry. There were only four witnesses; we weren't even near Azkaban!"

"Yes, but Draco could hear his father's cries from his cell," Matilda explained patiently. "There was no way to block the sounds, or the chill. He could hear the executioners talking to Lucius about what was to happen. He heard everything and felt everything that happened to his father. It was the day after the Dementors were removed that they discovered Draco wasn't eating anything anymore, and that's when they contacted me." She brushed her hair off her face in a swift movement. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy did not need Dementors guarding his cell for this to happen."

"Five months," Harry said, gazing at Malfoy's colourless face. He needed to speak with Hermione before her next class started in half an hour. There were so many things that needed to be taken care of that he couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going to do. It was clear that he'd need to speak to his boss about this Malfoy problem as well, and he would definitely have to cancel his date with Oliver Wood for tonight. He just couldn't deal with his personal life at the moment. He didn't need the attempt at recruitment and flirting he'd get from Oliver. As much as it pained him to do so, because he really did like Oliver and it would have been a welcome relief, he had to think about his job. A job that he wasn't sure he'd be holding much longer.

Matilda looked at him sadly and patted his cheek in a motherly fashion. Harry smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Malfoy did not deserve her.

"I need to go."

"It's quite all right," Matilda stated, brushing off the unspoken apology. "I suspect we'll be seeing each other again soon."

"More than likely," he agreed, reaching out and shaking her hand. "Good afternoon, Healer Leavenworth."

"Good afternoon, Auror Potter."

* * *

Hermione tapped the nub of her quill against the pockmarked desk and sighed. These students just weren't grasping the concepts. She might as well slam her head into the wall behind her for all the correct response she was receiving. She set the essay aside and shoved at her bushy brown hair. It kept falling into her face. Amanda had been demanding her attention that morning and she hadn't got the chance to put her hair up. She still wasn't sure what the jabbering four-year-old had actually been talking about, it had taken all her energy trying to look and sound attentive while trying to brush her hair into some semblance of order. 

The disturbance in the hallway was a blessed relief to her stressed mind and she listened to the yelling with a small smile. Was it really four o'clock already? Hermione picked up a spare quill and transfigured it into a chair beside her desk.

"But, sir-"

"No 'but's Potter, there is no running in these corridors, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." She could have applauded Harry for his ability to bullshit to his superiors. Anyone who didn't know him as well as she would have believed that he felt truly remorseful.

Hermione shook her head at the familiar conversation and charmed her teapot so the water would boil. Her next class started soon, and she knew how much Harry enjoyed the curious looks he got when he stayed too long. She hurriedly made herself appear busy when her bumbling friend made it into the lecture hall. He cleared his throat and Hermione made sure to look up at him with a pleasantly surprised expression.

"Harry!"

"Hey, Hermione."

He took his seat and, without asking, reached over and grabbed the self-heating teapot and then picked up the empty teacup before pouring the warm liquid into it. Hermione observed him in silence, taking in the slight tremble in his hands and the defeated look in his eyes.

"You saw Malfoy, didn't you?" she asked once he had taken a few sips of tea.

Harry grinned sheepishly and nodded. He set the teacup on the edge of her desk and bowed his head. She knew better than to push him, but if he didn't say what he wanted to soon he would have to say it in front of a class full of giggling girls and awestruck boys. Hermione reached over, covering his hand with her own. Harry glanced at their clasped hands and entranced, raised his head to look at her. Her heart constricted in sympathy. A part of her wished she could have told him what she had known before now, but another part was telling her it was better he found out on his own.

"Yes."

"And," she prompted, now more than a little worried. Surely nothing could have happened. After all, Malfoy was in a vegetative state.

The silence in the room was enough to make Hermione wish to retract her question. But, then Harry shrugged. "He's a bleeding log."

"A log?" she repeated, one eyebrow rising slightly.

"He just sits there and stares."

"Harry-"

Harry cut her off with a curious expression, a cross between betrayal and suspicion. "Hermione, did you know?"

Her eyes widened. How could he have known? She tried to calm her beating heart, by drinking a sip of her own tea. "Perhaps."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked so pathetic, but she knew him well enough not to fall for puppy-dog eyes. It was bad enough she did things for him that a person in her position shouldn't be doing, but talking about a patient went against her code as a healer. There were just some things she couldn't do, even for him. "I couldn't, Harry. The only reason I even know is because Malfoy's case was so extreme and rare. They needed all the help they could get, which is why they asked the teaching staff. I wanted to tell you Harry, I really did. In my defense, you should have read your own file first instead of ignoring it."

"I know," he said, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. Hermione waited for him to gather his thoughts and poured him another cup of tea. He had another five minutes before her students started to arrive in which to tell her what had occurred.

"What happened?" she prodded gently. Harry's smile was strained and Hermione began to worry. It couldn't be worth the amount of time he was taking. Nothing should have happened when Harry was with Draco, unless he did it himself, but then Harry would be fired and the orange lining of his Auror robes would be gone.

"I-well-I might have lost my temper."

"You didn't," she groaned, running a hand down the side of her face.

"I did. Hermione, I've never felt so pissed off in my life and I took it out on him. I was screaming at him and everything. When he didn't react I just flipped and started tormenting him, apparently something I said jogged a memory because suddenly he was looking at me." Harry shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. He rubbed a hand over his neck before bringing his gaze down to meet hers. She gripped his hand tightly and waited, barely containing her excitement. They had been trying everything to bring Malfoy back and all it had taken was Harry to get angry. "Hermione, he spoke my name and it was the only word he said."

"Harry, that's amazing! He actually reacted!"

Harry grinned ruefully, peering at her from beneath thick eyelashes. "He moved too."

"Did he?" Hermione asked. That was more of a shock than speaking. "Why?"

"He started ignoring me," grumbled Harry with a wan smile. "and I might have shaken him and he kinda bolted under his bench."

Hermione released his hand and picked up her quill again. She bit the feather in thought as Harry drummed his fingers against her desk. "What did Healer Leavenworth say?"

"She explained what happened to him." He shook his head, tracing the grain of the desk. His eyes took on a plaintive quality when he next spoke, "Hermione, no one deserves that."

"Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you say," she said, unable to keep the ice from her tone.

Harry sighed. "I did call and apologize about eight times this morning."

"But it didn't hurt me, Harry. That generalization hadn't come from nowhere," she pointed out, bringing her cup of tea to her lips. "You had to have meant at least a bit of it."

"I do. I hate him."

Hermione scanned his eyes for any uncertainty. "Yet you feel for him."

"I'd feel for anyone in his circumstances," Harry mumbled, staring holes into her desk.

She hummed, ignoring his disbelieving stare. "If you say so." She glanced down at her watch and her eyes flickered towards the shut door, any moment now her students would be entering. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Malfoy wasn't even supposed to be in that holding cell today, he was supposed to be gone. His circumstances, however," he recited dully, "make it clear he needs an extension. If he isn't gone by tomorrow night at seven, you're out of a job, Potter."

"Oh Harry, you can't seriously be considering leaving him in the Muggle world. He'd be killed – or worse just waste away."

"He already is wasting away!" Harry snapped, clutching his blue teacup, his face going murderous. Her desk drawers began to rattle. Hermione didn't dare say anything to upset him further. She hadn't seen him so close to losing control like this in a long time. "He's skin and bones, Hermione! I've never seen anyone that scrawny still alive!"

"He would be though, he hasn't been eating."

"I know it's just… I can't nark on him when he's like that," Harry grumbled, "unresponsive. It's just not fun."

"You aren't supposed to be having fun, Harry. You're supposed to be doing your job."

"Have you been talking to Kingsley?"

Hermione blinked and shook her head. "No, why?"

"It's nothing. You just sounded like him, that's all. Potter, what are you doing? You are supposed to be taking care of this paperwork, not running off and seeking out trouble."

The brunette grinned and petted his hand in mock sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Harry. That must be difficult."

Harry pouted, but started laughing shortly after. Smirking to herself, Hermione was glad she had taken the risk and poked fun at the situation. Harry rarely seemed to be laughing anymore and the sound was wonderful to hear.

"Professor, I was wondering if- oh!"

Hermione's gaze snapped to the door where a petite blonde was standing balancing a book that was open in one hand and her bag in another. She appeared to be in shock.

"I'd better get going," Harry said, flashing the girl a charming smile and a wink. Hermione noticed that she flushed once Harry had turned and almost dropped the heavy-looking book. She eyed him over as he stood. "You've got a class and whatnot." He walked around Hermione's desk and bent over kissing her cheek gently. "I really am sorry about last night," he whispered so the younger girl couldn't hear.

"I know you are, you prat," Hermione murmured, affectionately squeezing his hand one last time. "Now get out of here. I still fully expect you to be at our house tonight for dinner. Amanda and Brigit have been asking where you are. They miss seeing you."

"How are my favorite nieces, by the way?"

Hermione snorted. "Pests."

Harry laughed. "The same as always then?"

"Same as always," she confirmed.

"All right, I'll be there, so long as you make shepherd's pie."

"Of course I will," she sighed, exasperated. "It's all the twins eat now."

"Is that my fault?" Harry questioned, the picture of innocence.

Hermione rolled her eyes before shooing him away. "Get out of my classroom, Auror Potter or I'll call in Healer Constantine in to escort you off the premises."

"You wouldn't dare."

She opened a drawer and held up a piece of paper with a bright blue dot in the corner, an interoffice memo. "Wouldn't I?"

"You're a mean lady, Healer Granger."

"I know," she agreed easily, reordering the papers on her desk. "Now go."

Hermione watched Harry laugh as he squeezed past a few more students who were in the doorway, and then disappeared into the hall. She shook her head. Harry was in for a tough time, she just wondered if he knew how tough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Notes:** Written for the anonymous exchange on livejournal at hpslashnotsmut. The request was for plot post HBP where Harry had to deal with Draco after the events of the book and that they still get into a relationship. Also she wanted mentor!Snape and it's Snape, who am I to resist that request?

Beta'd by Rakina, Arenas, and Xos2ed

* * *

_Part Two_

Harry waded through the crowded halls of St. Mungos as he made his way to the atrium. He had to go and grab a few things from work, including a new Portkey, before he could head home. He had disconnected his Floo when he had begun to get unsolicited callers. Ignoring the odd stares he was getting, he sidestepped an elderly couple with a smile. The day hadn't been as bad as it could have been. That was a shock. He realized he had been working himself up for no reason at all. If anything, Harry felt disappointed.

"Good evening, Auror Potter," a light female voice said as he passed the reception desk. Harry stopped, a small smile on his lips.

"Good evening, Miss Lovegood."

Luna's laughter followed him to the Floos. He queued behind a father and his son and glanced at his watch. Damn Kingsley anyway! If it had been anyone else they never would have had their Apparation rights revoked because they never would have been caught. To make matters worse, the boy in front of him seemed to have a cold and was coughing every five seconds. Harry couldn't be forced to feel sympathy. Little kids caught colds. His nieces seemed to have them perpetually, if that was any indication.

He cleared his throat in annoyance when the father did nothing to stop the child's miserable wailing. That earned him a dirty glare, but at least the kid had shut up. The fact that he was staring pointedly at his forehead didn't escape his notice.

Harry looked down at him and smiled weakly. It wasn't the boy's fault he was sick and Harry was in a rush, however, it was the father's fault that he wasn't already Flooing out of there.

"Do you have a problem?" The man barked, when Harry tapped him on the shoulder. With a shake of the head and a point of the finger, Harry finally got the man to realize what he wanted.

The man grunted and picked his son up in his arms, before marching over to the Floo, grabbing some powder and vanishing in green flames.

"You did the right thing, Potter."

Harry spun around in shock. "Professor!"

Snape snorted. "Potter, I am no longer your teacher. You can stop calling me that."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, still gaping. How long had it been since he had seen Snape? Five months? A year? Before the last skirmish had broken out, that was for certain. He grinned sheepishly. "I'm just going back to the office to grab a Portkey home."

"I was under the impression that all Aurors needed to be able to Apparate."

Harry shrugged as he stepped forward towards one of the vacant Floos. "Yes, well, they do."

"And?"

"And, I don't want to talk about it here," he answered, grabbing some Floo powder. He stepped into the fireplace and calling out 'Ministry of Magic', he vanished, leaving Snape behind, scowling. Harry closed his eyes to quell the nausea as he hurtled through the Floo system and braced himself as he began his descent. He stumbled out of the Floo, just barely keeping his footing.

He brushed off his robes and straightened his glasses. Snape was standing there, looking superior.

"Just because you can still Apparate, does not give you leave to make fun of me," Harry warned.

"I have been belittling you since you were eleven, Mr. Potter. What makes you think your pathetic attempt at being threatening is going to stop me now?"

Harry glared and handed his wand to Maggie, waiting as she checked it over. This was the most tedious part of returning to work, and the main reason he rarely ate out during his lunch breaks. The entire process was rubbish in his opinion. Just because there was no Dark magic on your wand, it did not mean you weren't entering the Ministry with the intent to hurt someone.

He stepped aside so Snape could hand over his wand as well, which Maggie took with greater reluctance.

"All set," Maggie said after a moment, handing him back his wand with a cheerful smile.

"Thank you, Maggie."

"No problem, Harry." She glanced over at Snape, confused, yet her smile never faded. "Why are you back anyway? I thought you had gone home for the night."

"Sadly, no."

Maggie nodded sympathetically. "Well, have a good evening then. You too, Professor," she added, watching Snape warily.

"Miss Long," Snape returned, with a curt bob of his head.

Once out of earshot, Harry turned on his heels and started walking backwards. No one should be in these halls , so he wasn't worried about walking into someone.

"You still enjoy intimidation then?"

"Of course. You were thinking otherwise?"

Harry shrugged. He wasn't a student. He wasn't going to blush. "So, how are the students this year?" he asked instead. Snape gave a long-suffering sigh and Harry sniggered. "That bad then?"

"They seem to be getting worse each year."

"You say that every year," Harry pointed out, fishing for his keys in his pocket as they neared the Auror department.

"And it still holds true every year."

Harry unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened room. Light immediately sprang up from the candles lining the walls, and he ducked, barely missing getting stabbed in the eye by a blasted interoffice memo. It circled his head and he grabbed it irritably.

"Bad day, Potter?" The blatant glee Snape found in his predicament only irritated him more.

"The worst," Harry grumbled, reading the notice. He crumpled it up and stuffed it in his pocket without a sound. He only had to be told twice, he didn't need flying bits of paper to remind him that he had to get Malfoy out of there tomorrow. "It almost makes me miss living in a cave with you."

"Does it really?"

Harry looked over his shoulder at his former professor and shrugged half-heartedly. "At least there I knew exactly what was expected of me."

"You've gone to see Mr. Malfoy already, haven't you?"

"Why is it everyone can tell?" he whined, walking down a row of cubicles before reaching a hall of offices. Snape loomed over him casting him in shadow. He pressed his hand to the doorknob and winced as it pricked his skin, drawing a droplet of blood.

"Everyone? Surely you haven't seen everyone in this world in the last few hours, Potter."

"Sarcasm really not appreciated, sir."

"Petulance is not appreciated either, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed and opened the door to his small office. He stepped aside, letting Snape in before him. He kept his head bowed until Snape passed by him, a habit he found hard to break once the war was over. It had been driven into his head to avert his eyes when an influential wizard, or one with extraordinary power, went past him. It was to prevent someone from being able to tell what he was thinking without Legilimency. It had taken a great part of the war to get his emotions under control, and even then, one look into his eyes had been able to tell what he was feeling, and that had been his greatest weakness. This had been the alternate way. Keep your head bowed and out of trouble.

He shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, feeling foolish. Snape and he were equals now. The man had as much as admitted it to him one night, and he knew that if Snape tried to invade his mind he would know it. Plus, he had nothing to hide from him. He clearly already knew that Harry had Malfoy in his care. He touched the metal band on his arm through his sleeve, shivering.

"I need to know what happened today, Potter," Snape stated, sitting down behind Harry's desk. It was hard not to sink back into his roll of repentant student and stand there with his head bowed. To compensate the urge, he stared at the framed photo on his wall. An ordinary Muggle photo of his best friend's wedding. It had been taken just as the sun was setting and Ron's hair stood out starkly against the purpling sky, and Hermione's eyes seemed to sparkle. "Healer Leavenworth contacted me when you had finished your visit with Draco, but she didn't divulge any information."

"So you came to the source?"

"I see Auror training did you some good then."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat down in the same seat Ron had been in earlier. "What do you want to know?"

"She said it went 'very well'," Snape sounded disgusted. "I suspect she may have lied."

Harry grimaced. "I suppose that depends on your definition of well."

"Surely, Mr. Potter, not even you could have 'bollocksed it up' that badly."

Harry grinned, finding it hard to keep his amusement out of his tone. "Brushing up on our slang?"

"I rather think it comes with the territory. I can't let those little miscreants think they know more than me."

"Of course not."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Harry trying not to fidget overly much. He knew why Snape was here, but he couldn't quite bring himself to admit what he had done, how he had lost all control.

"Potter."

Harry looked up to meet Snape's unwavering gaze. "Yes?"

"What are you going to do with him?"

"What do you mean?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and that feeling that he was being a bad student returned.

"Are you being purposefully dense, or are you truly unaware of how much power you have over young Mr. Malfoy at this moment?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "I'm not going to hurt him if that's what you mean."

"Not purposefully you won't, Potter. You're anything but cruel."

"So you admit that I might be better than my father?" Harry snapped, eyes flashing.

"Do you honestly believe I would seek out your company after the war, if I still thought of you as your father?"

"No," Harry muttered, embarrassed.

Snape nodded approvingly. "Good; now back to my original question. Will you abandon him?"

Harry growled low in the back of his throat. Here was someone he could take his frustrations out on without fear of hurting them. Here was someone he could mouth off at and not get disappointed stares. So, why wasn't he doing it then?

"Do you think this," Harry sneered, roughly shoving up the sleeve of his Auror uniform to show the silver band around his wrist, "would allow me to forget him? Fuck, for all they say this is helping I can't see how tying Aurors to Death Eaters will do anyone a good service."

"You'd be surprised, Potter, at what the ridiculously righteous are willing to put up with."

"Did you just stick up for my job?"

Snape brushed him off with a disdainful sniff. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Sir?"

"What, Potter?"

"Malfoy, do you--I mean--you did know him better than me, and you're really the only one I can go to seeing as Mrs. Malfoy is in St. Mungo's psyche ward, and I really can't think of a way to--"

"Just spit it out."

"Do you know of anything that might draw Malfoy out of his shell?"

Snape scowled at him and Harry averted his eyes. He hadn't realized how easily he was slipping back into his former role. It was unnerving. His filing cabinet was also unlocked, he realized as he stared at it.

"Is it true you have some knowledge of how to play the piano now?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused by the seemingly pointless question. "Pian--yes, Hermione thought it would be a good idea for her, Ron, and I to learn it. It was either that or ballroom dancing, why?"

"Because Draco's most cherished possession is his baby grand piano. If any object were to awaken his mind it would be that."

"Can't you just--I dunno--use Legilimency on him and force him out of his mind."

Snape snarled and Harry gulped. The man circled the desk and loomed over him with a deep scowl. His skin was blotchy and two pinpricks of red appeared on his high cheekbones. Harry realized he was fucked.

"You idiotic fool," he hissed, "you never listened to a word I said did you? You refused to pay attention! You have no idea of what you could do with that spell, do you? Do you!"

"I--"

"You could render him brain damaged if you were to do so! If I catch even a whisper of you trying that spell anywhere in Draco's vicinity, I will wring your neck. Do you understand now?"

Harry nodded frantically, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair. He wished someone would come in claiming to have forgotten something; anyone would do, and get him away from Snape's rage. He had known Snape was close to Malfoy as his Head of House, but the way he was acting told Harry that he had known Draco much longer than a few years.

"Yes, sir," he squeaked out.

"Good. I'll be checking in again, Potter." His tone left no room for arguing, not that Harry expected there would be.

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

He sat tense as Snape went around his chair towards the door. "It was a pleasure chatting with you, Mr. Potter."

"Likewise, sir," Harry mumbled, offering the Potions master a hesitant smile. With a small nod, the man was gone. Harry slumped into his chair, running a trembling hand through his hair. Whether he liked it or not he had just promised that he'd take care of Malfoy, and he had promised it to someone he respected. At least Kingsley wouldn't have anything to complain about anymore, he thought ruefully, standing and locking his filing cabinet.

* * *

The following afternoon came too soon for Harry. Ron had eaten lunch with him again and dropped off a drawing Amanda and Brigit had done for him the night before when he had visited. Ron had charmed it so the stick figures moved around and now it was stuck to the side of his filing cabinet.

"Potter, I hope you have an excellent reason for not preparing Malfoy for his move."

Harry glanced up from Malfoy's file. He had been hoping he could find a bit of enlightenment there, but all he found was what Matilda had told him, not helpful in the least.

"I do."

"And…?"

"And…" Harry drawled, arching back in his chair. "Matilda is still trying to get him to drink some water before I'm forced to take him by Portkey."

"The Apparation ban has been lifted," Kingsley admitted. Harry scowled at the black man, folding his arms across his chest. "It's safer to take our subjects by Apparation."

"Less traceable."

"Got it in one, Potter."

Harry sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his tired eyes before putting them back on. "What time is it anyway?"

"Just after five. So watch yourself."

"Yes, sir."

Kingsley stared at him for a few seconds as if figuring something out. "I don't want to fire you, Harry."

Harry grinned weakly. "I know, boss."

"Good lad."

Once Kingsley left, Harry slouched forward, burying his hands in his hair. He kept repeating his conversation with Hermione from last night in his head. There really wasn't another choice. Malfoy was going home with him, however hard he had to try to keep bile from rising in his throat at the thought. Malfoy, in his flat. Yet on some level Harry knew that it wouldn't be a problem. After all, Malfoy was as useful as a rag doll and took up about the same amount of space. He hated his sense of duty.

Sighing, he pushed his chair away from his desk, picking up Malfoy's folder as he went.

Malfoy was in the same place he had left him the day before. He had the same vacant expression, and he was sitting in the same spot on the bench. Harry briefly wondered how they managed to bath him and get him back in the same position.

"Mr. Potter, are you sure you want to do this?"

Harry gazed at the anxious Healer and lifted his shoulders. "There's nothing else I can do."

Matilda sighed and folded her arms across her chest. Silence pervaded the room as they both watched Malfoy blink lethargically.

"What do I need to do?" Harry murmured, already bending over to lift Malfoy from the wooden bench. The other man's skin was clammy to the touch.

Matilda helped tuck Malfoy's head against Harry's shoulder so it wasn't lolling around any longer. Harry tried not to flinch as the blond's cold nose touched his neck, sending gooseflesh up and down his arms. He adjusted the lighter man in his arms, cradling him in a way that would cause humiliation for the ex-Death Eater on a normal day.

"He needs to stay hydrated," she told him as they exited the chilled room into the warmer hallway, "and you aren't qualified to administer certain protein potions either. Why can't I come with you again?"

Harry sighed. "Because as long as Malfoy is gone, Kingsley won't suspect anything strange, but if you're gone too, both of us could come under question. Your reputation as a Healer could be ruined." The unspoken, "and I could lose my job," hung between them.

"This is such a horrible idea."

"What would you have me do?" Harry snapped. "It's not like I can just drop him off in the Muggle world alone!"

"Auror Potter, please."

"Healer Leavenworth, I appreciate how concerned you are for Mr. Malfoy, but you must understand that there is nothing that can be done. Nothing."

Matilda scowled and stopped walking. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes, continuing forward as if he hadn't noticed. Let her throw a fit, at least one of them should be allowed to.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" she hissed.

Harry turned around, careful not to dislodge Malfoy's head from his shoulder. "I am sorry," he gritted out angrily, "but there is _nothing _I can do about this. Just tell me what I need to know, so I can take care of him."

Matilda gripped her white apron and gazed around the empty corridor with a lost expression. Harry felt guilty about it, yet there was nothing he could do. It was bad enough she knew what was going on. By rights he could _Obliviate_ her, she did know too much already. He wouldn't do it though, as much as he hated relying on someone else he needed her to make sure he didn't accidentally cock up his mission and get Malfoy killed. The metal of his bracelet was cool against his wrist, but he wondered for how long. How long would it be until something went wrong?

"Potter!"

Harry looked down the hallway to see Kingsley striding towards him, pleased. He threw a quick look at Matilda and noticed she was busy writing something down on her clipboard. That was convenient.

"Yes?"

The taller man took in the blond in Harry's arms and the healer behind him. "You're _finally_ doing as you're told?"

Harry nodded curtly. It would be absolutely _wonderful_ if his boss decided to follow him now, just bloody wonderful. He had to remember to strengthen his wards when he got home.

"Yes, sir."

Kingsley smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Excellent. I want to see your report on how this went on my desk tomorrow afternoon."

"Of course, sir." Harry gave him a tightlipped smile and made to move forward, when Kingsley stopped him again.

"And Potter?"

Harry gazed up at Kingsley coolly. "Yes, sir?"

"No funny business, you got me?"

"Yeah, I got you." Harry had to remind himself that Kingsley couldn't hear the drumming of his heart.

They held each other's eyes for a few seconds, before Kingsley broke contact. He stepped back with a small bob of the head. "Tomorrow, Potter."

"Tomorrow."

He stood perfectly still until he was certain Kingsley walked out of earshot. Cursing, he wanted nothing more than to punch the wall beside him. They had to be following him somehow. Kingsley couldn't have known he was here if there wasn't.

"Mr. Potter, watch your language please," Matilda chided, clipping her quill to the clipboard. "Now there is only one way you are going to get him to drink anything, and that is by force. I've found the safest way is to run the cup over his lip until he opens his mouth. Don't worry if he chokes at first, just go slowly and help him swallow by massaging his neck."

"That's the safe way, what's the easy?" Harry muttered, adjusting his shoulder, when Malfoy's head started to fall sideways.

Matilda grabbed the blond's wrist and seemed to be taking his pulse as she gathered her thoughts. "The easy way would be through injection, but without proper training you could easily make his current situation worse, and you would feel that." She nodded at the bracelet that had slipped down his arm and was now dangling loosely on his wrist.

"Safe way it is then," Harry said quickly, blocking out the involuntary shiver at the mention of injections. "Is that all?"

"You'll have to feed him chicken broth as well, for what little protein it can give him. He's still in a danger zone, as it is, and if he continues to reject everything we give him he very well could die."

The thoughtful pause between them was cut short by the sound of beeping coming from Harry's pocket. "I need to go."

"Then go, but if something goes wrong, please, please don't hesitate to call me or your friend, Healer Granger."

"I won't," he agreed hastily, pulling out a round paperweight from his pocket. He barely got the chance to place Malfoy's hand securely on the relatively illegal Portkey when it activated and took them from the pristine hallway to Harry's messy flat.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure what to do. Two days ago, he had taken Draco Malfoy from the ministry and since then he had become nothing more than a sofa decoration. It was absolutely maddening. Harry wanted to punch the blond in the face for all the good it would do.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, do something."

"That won't work, Harry."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, taking the beer bottle from her without looking. He popped the cap off and took a deep sip, before placing it on the floor next to him. He bounced on his haunches, staring into blank grey eyes trying to determine what to do now.

A hand ran through his hair, and he slanted a smile at Hermione whose smile softened. "You need to get some rest, Harry."

"It's just so frustrating," he snarled, picking up the cold bottle once again. He hesitated as he brought it to his lips, and then after a pause lowered it again without drinking any. He stared at the non-descript brown bottle, his brow furrowing in thought. "Kingsley dropped by today. I'm just lucky I strengthened my wards enough to prevent him from Apparating in."

"What did he want?" Hermione asked, sitting on the floor beside him. She leaned against the sofa and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

Harry scowled at his drink and cast it aside. With a soft thump, he dropped to his bum and pulled his knees to his chest. "To tell me Malfoy went missing."

"He knows already?"

"Damn right he knows already! And I can't just leave Malfoy alone. You know that, Ron knows that, I know that, hell, the twins know that and even they are worried about him. They're four, Hermione. They've met him once, and already they're worried about him. I can't disappoint them, Hermione, I just can't."

She hummed thoughtfully as she turned her gaze direction on Malfoy. "He hasn't moved at all."

"He doesn't. Not without a serious amount of coaxing anyway."

"That's not necessarily true, Harry."

Harry groaned. "If you're talking about that one time, forget it, Hermione. I can't even remember what I was saying; let alone which part of it triggered something within the prat."

He watched as Hermione's eyes suddenly lit up, and Harry could just about see the plan forming in her mind.

"A Pensieve."

"What?"

She grinned and Harry got worried. "You need a Pensieve, Harry. Pull the memory out and examine it that way."

Harry leaned forward onto his knees and kissed her forehead. "You're absolutely brilliant," he told her, "wait here."

Hermione gave him a confused smile, but Harry didn't explain as he jumped to his stockinged feet and hurriedly left his sitting room.

Five minutes later he returned, Pensieve in hand and with a goofy grin on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes and that only served to make Harry laugh.

"I just happened to have one in storage," he explained, placing it on the glass table in front of the sofa.

"Only you would have a Pensieve in storage, Harry." Her eyes shimmered with laughter. "Honestly, you're just as bad as Ron and his father."

"I happen to like Mr. Weasley," Harry cried, laughing at her.

"Of course you do," she patronized, casting a weary glance at Malfoy. Harry followed her gaze, frowning at the cracked lips. He glanced at the wall clock and his frown deepened. How had he lost track of time like that? "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Malfoy needs to be fed," he murmured, brushing aside the thought that saying that made Malfoy sound like some sort of pet.

Hermione laid a hand on his arm and stood. "Let me do it. I have more experience in these things." Harry grabbed and squeezed her hand in thanks as she disappeared through the archway to the kitchen. His gaze reluctantly went back to the waif of a man on his sofa. The familiar feeling of sympathy twanged within his gut.

This wasn't his fault though, he told himself sternly, focusing back on the empty Pensieve before him. At one time it had held another, greater, man's memories for him to sift through, but once he had finished going through them all they had needed to be destroyed. Albus Dumbledore's memories forever remained in Harry's mind, the old headmaster's last gift to him.

"All right, I can do this," he said to himself, plucking his wand up off the coffee table. He bent low over the basin and touched the wand to his temple and focused on recalling the memory of his afternoon with Malfoy. It slowly swam to the surface and Harry hooked onto it like a fisherman harpooning a fish. He tugged it out, trying valiantly not to be disturbed by the silvery thread he removed from his head. Settling it in the magical basin he tapped at it with tip of his wand, watching as the scene cleared before him. There was no audio, but Malfoy's impassive face, twisting into its once familiar sneer told him he had taken out the correct part.

Harry looked up when Hermione entered the room once more with an exasperated expression. A few seconds later it became clear why. Ron walked across the hardwood floor with a sheepish smile, behind him trailed Amanda and Brigit, talking quietly with their heads bent together.

It was eerily reminiscent of their Uncles when they were about to pull a prank. Hermione must have noticed this too because she quickly went and lifted Brigit off the ground and flipped her upside down. The girl squealed in delight, her long flowered top flying up to reveal her pudgy belly. Ron bent over and grabbed the girl's hands and stepped backwards so they were holding her like a hammock.

Amanda made a beeline for Harry and he caught her around the middle and pulled her onto his lap, tugging one of her pigtail braids before planting a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek.

"Have a good day at school, love?"

"It was great, Uncle Harry. We did lotsa neat stuff with Miss Bell. And Jason wouldn't leave Brigit alone and dared her to eat a crayon so she did and she got sick and Mummy had to come and get her. She was put in time out and made lotsa funny faces."

Harry laughed. "It's not nice to talk about your sister like that."

"S'okay Uncle Harry, cause then I ates a crayon too and Mummy put us both in time out togever."

Hermione was laughing and he looked up just in time to see Brigit flying towards him. She flung her arms around Harry's neck, kneeing her twin sister in the back, and then nuzzling Harry's shoulder. Harry stroked her free-flowing, curly red hair and looked up to see Ron tickling Hermione as she tried to fend him off.

"Harry, help!" she cried, between peals of laughter.

Harry smirked and shook his head. "I have a lap full of Weasley brats, can't help you."

"Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, Bridie?"

"Who's that?" Sharp blue eyes were looking past his shoulder at the sofa behind him. Hermione's laughter had died off and Ron seemed momentarily frozen in place. Amanda craned her neck all the way back to take in the strange man on the sofa as well. Her sweet smile turned confused, and then into a worried frown.

"Is he okay, Uncle Harry?"

"No, I'm afraid he's very sick, darling," Harry said gently, running a hand up and down Amanda's back. He looked up at Hermione for help. She was the healer, not him.

"Does he gots the wizard flu?"

"I bet he's got chicken pops," Brigit said speculatively, her nose wrinkling.

Amanda scowled. "He's got the flu."

"The pops!"

"The flu!"

"Girls, please," Hermione hushed, picking up Brigit and situating her on her hip. The little girl's peasant skirt rode up, showing cowboy boots, but Harry found his focus and concern not on her odd yet endearing apparel, but on her expression. It was downright scared.

"Mummy, is he gonna die, like Tiffy?"

Amanda curled on Harry's lap, and he found himself murmuring soft sounds to calm her down. He could already feel her tiny body trembling.

"No, baby," Ron told Brigit in a rough voice. Harry didn't blame him, Ron hated Malfoy as much he used to, but even they couldn't say anything bad about him around the twins. They wouldn't understand. "He won't die like Tiffy."

"But, Tiffy doggie was sick just like him is," Amanda sniffled, rubbing her nose on her sweater sleeve. "And you said Tiffy wouldn' die neither!"

"Baby, Tiffy was an old dog," Hermione explained, kissing the crown of Brigit's head. "Draco isn't old. He's just not feeling well."

"But—"

"You'll see," Harry said, with more optimism than he had the right to feel. "In a few weeks he'll be as right as rain."

"Will he?" Amanda asked wide-eyed.

Harry tapped her nose. "Of course he will because I said so."

Amanda giggled and the tension in the room broke. Hermione sagged forward in relief and masked it by setting the four-year-old in her arms back on the floor again.

"Come on, I bet Misty misses us," Brigit said happily, already forgetting what had made her so upset in the first place. She held out her hand to her older sister by three minutes, which Amanda readily took and then they were off like a shot, down the hall and into the bedrooms.

"I'll make sure they don't break something," muttered Ron as he pecked his wife serenely on the cheek.

"I love you," Hermione cooed, exaggerating the motion of batting her eyelashes.

Ron kissed her more thoroughly, uncaring that Harry was in the room to see it. "You'd better."

Hermione stared after him in a daze and then shook her head. "Sorry about that," she said sheepishly.

"At least you're getting some on a regular basis," Harry smirked.

"Harry!" Hermione slapped his arm lightly, her cheeks suffusing with a lovely shade of red.

"What?"

"You're horrible."

Harry grinned. "No, I'm not."

"Yes you are, you great oaf, now budge over so I can get at Malfoy."

Harry obeyed her request, by sliding up onto the couch beside the blond. "I think I got the right memory."

Hermione nodded as she leaned forward, her forehead wrinkling in concern. She ran the cup of broth over Malfoy's bottom lip until he opened his mouth. Careful to not spill any of the tepid fluid down the blond's chin, she tipped the plastic cup and dribbled the contents slowly Malfoy's mouth.

Harry watched as she coaxed him to swallow the broth and had to turn away, when some slipped down his chin.

"Has he thrown up anything yet?" Hermione asked, summoning a napkin from the kitchen and dabbing gently at the mess.

He shook his head. "No, he's been fine. It's odd. Healer Leavenworth made it sound like he was doing it almost every meal."

"Well you would too if you were trapped in that place," Hermione snapped. She sighed and bowed her head. "Sorry."

"No, you're right, Hermione."

"This is the second time you've admitted this in the past two days, are you sure you aren't sick as well?" she teased, reaching over and feeling his forehead in mock concern. "The Harry Potter from a few days ago wouldn't have cared if they had thrown Draco Malfoy in a skip, let alone got proper medical attention."

"The Harry Potter from a few days ago didn't know his cat would take such a liking to said blond prick either."

Hermione arched a brow disbelievingly. "So, you're telling me you feel bad for Malfoy because Misty likes him?" She shook her head. "No offense, Harry, but not even the twins are likely to believe that."

"Fine, I just- I feel bad for him, okay!"

His friend's expression softened and she ran her hand down his cheek. "That's more than fine. That's normal."

"But I liked hating him," Harry whined. "It was a constant."

Hermione remained calm. "You have other constants now, Harry."

Harry was inclined to believe she was right.

* * *

"Hermione, I don't know what to do!"

"Listen, Harry, you need to calm down. I don't even know what's wrong yet."

She set a bowl of dried macaroni in front of the twins and crossed her kitchen to the stove. She stood on tiptoes, balancing the handset between her shoulder and ear as she reached for the glue sticks and finger paints. It had taken forever for Ron to get used to living a Muggle lifestyle, but she was glad he had conceded to her on this.

There were some things about living like a Muggle she just refused to give up. Heating and electricity were only two of them. It was the same for Harry. When they had gone hunting for a flat for him, they had decided that they would keep to Muggle London, away from the press, and pressure of being in the public's eye.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, reaching effortlessly over Hermione to grab the glue stick she had knocked back further into the cabinet and out of reach. He handed it to his wife and pressed a kiss to her temple, his arms encircling her waist. He could hear Harry's panicked voice through the speaker of the phone as clearly as if he was the one holding it.

"Hermione, Kingsley is coming to talk to me tonight about why I haven't started a search for Malfoy yet. Well, I know why I haven't because he's been taking up space on my sofa for the last four days, but how am I supposed to explain that to my boss?"

"Harry, mate, it's me," Ron said, taking the phone from Hermione. The frizzy-haired brunette ducked under his arm and went to give their two little girls the paste and paint. "When's Kingsley showing up then?"

"In thirty minutes. Ron, I don't know what to do here, and if I don't think of a plan soon, preferably an untraceable one, I'm getting sacked."

"Fu-" Ron's eyes went wide as the giggling at the table stopped and the twins turned to their father with identical expressions of intrigue. "-udge ," he finished lamely. "Then why are you still at home?"

"Give me that," Hermione said in exasperation. She grabbed the receiver and sighed. "Now go," she mouthed. Ron nodded, giving his two paint-splattered daughters a quick kiss each, before heading out into the night.

"Hermione?"

"I'm still here, Harry."

"What am I going to do?"

Hermione leaned against the countertop and hung her head, making sure to keep an eye on the twins as they smeared glue all over their pieces of paper.

"You're going to calm down and wait for Ron to show up."

"What good will that do?"

She gazed around her crowded kitchen, before spotting the picture on the refrigerator. The one piece of artwork done by the twins she hadn't let Ron give to Harry at work. She took it off the refrigerator and gazed at the two figures moving in it. To say she had been shocked when Amanda had handed their newest drawing to her would be an understatement. But she was beginning to see what they did.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"You're going to have to talk to Malfoy."

* * *

Harry paced in front of his sofa, shooting anxious glances at the front door to his flat, and then back to the blond sitting as impassive as ever on his couch. There was no way in hell Ron was going to be able to come up with a plan by the time he got over here. Hermione had made no sense when she had said talk to Malfoy. He could shout himself hoarse, but it wouldn't do any good. There was no way he'd risk Apparating without Malfoy being aware, at least on some level, of what was going on. Aside from being unethical, he'd run the risk of splinching them both and Harry had done quite enough of that for one week.

"Come on, come on," he urged, staring a hole through the door. Only twenty minutes until Kingsley showed up and things went pear-shaped. _Not that they weren't already_, he thought ruefully, flinging himself on the couch next to Malfoy. "You would be the one to ruin my career."

Malfoy didn't move, not that Harry had expected him to. "Hermione says talk to you, so I'm going to. Did you know that the house I'm leaving you at technically belongs to me? When Kingsley had told me to find an empty house, I never expected him to want to move you in there. You never know, you might even have liked it. Doubt it though, there aren't any house elves and there certainly aren't any silk sheets." Harry snorted. Why was he even bothering? If Ron were to walk in now he'd have every right to take the piss out of him, talking to himself like he was the insane one.

"Did you know the twins actually like you?" Harry said, leaning back against the arm of his couch. He gasped when a ball of fluff jumped on his stomach and from there to the back of the sofa. Harry spared a second to glare at Misty, before stroking her gray and white fur. She purred in pleasure and Harry rolled his eyes, scratching under her chin and behind her ears. "They do," he continued, as if he hadn't been rudely interrupted, "you're all they talk about. They want daily reports on your health to make sure you are getting better. You're making me lie to my nieces, and my boss."

Misty bit his finger and he yelped, withdrawing his hand. The cat just blinked at him, still purring. "For that I am not giving you any treats tonight."

"Harry, you in there?"

"The door's unlocked, Ron!"

The front door swung open and Ron walked into the sitting room with a peevish expression. His blue eyes settled on Harry's face and his expression softened. "You all right?"

"I just got a love nip from this old wench here, but otherwise I'm completely losing my mind."

Ron snorted and leaned against the backside of the sofa, running his hand over Misty's back much to the old girl's happiness.

"So, had you worked anything out yet? Mione made if fairly clear that if I didn't help you with this I wouldn't be seeing my blankets any time tonight."

"Harsh mistress," Harry snickered, stretching on the couch, his foot bumping into Malfoy's hip. He gazed down the length of the piece of furniture, taking in the sunken expression of the man beside him. "Why can't you just be normal like all the other Death Eaters?"

"Because he's Malfoy, and he would have to be special."

"Oh, yes of course." His eyes flickered to the wall clock and his stomach clenched again. "Fifteen minutes."

"There has to be something you can do."

"You tell me what, and I'll do it in a second." Harry groaned, rubbing his face vigorously. "I'm screwed, no matter what happens."

Ron moved around the couch, tripping over something as he went. He bent over and pulled something out from beneath the side table, something Harry couldn't see from his angle. "What is it?"

"A Pensieve," Ron murmured bemused. "Do you often keep them under side tables?"

"Shut it and bring it here," Harry snapped, his eyes lighting with interest. He was ashamed to admit he had forgotten, he had stuffed it there the last time Ron and Hermione had been over. He hadn't even gone into it yet. Had that been what Hermione had meant? She would be the one to remember this even when he didn't.

He sat up crossing his legs, accepting the basin when it was handed to him. "You coming with me, it'll only take a few minutes, not even that long."

"Nah, I'm okay. I'll stand watch."

"Ron?" His fingers curled around the lip of the Pensieve.

"Yeah, Harry?"

Harry looked up offering his friend a crooked grin. "Thanks for showing up."

"Not a problem."

He nodded and taking a deep breath, stuck his head into the swirling mist. He fell the short distance down into the white room, shivering uncontrollably. Stepping around so he was crouching beside Malfoy, he rested a hand on the bench, waiting for the exact moment when there was a shift in his expression.

_"Where's your daddy to run to now, huh, Malfoy? He can't save you, not when you need him most, the Malfoy name is mud, it's worse than mud, it's the little crawlies that live in the mud and you've got no one to hide behind any more."_

Harry winced as he listened to himself hurl slur after slur at the blond beside him, surprised and disgusted by his own behavior. He was suddenly glad Hermione hadn't been around to accompany him for this. She would have been horrified. Steeling himself, he looked back into Malfoy's face.

_"I'm so glad I didn't accept your hand that day on the train or I could have fallen in with the 'wrong sort'."  
_

There it was. A blink, and then a more rapid one, and suddenly the very familiar sneer appeared.

_iPotter."  
_

What had he just mentioned that tipped him off? The meeting on the train.That was it? That was all he had to say? He mentally cheered as the memory began to dissolve around him and he pulled his head from the Pensieve.

"Any luck?"

Harry grinned, crawling across the short space, ignoring Ron for the moment.

"Malfoy, I hope you're listening to me," he said, trying to sound malicious, but failing at it. It shouldn't matter, he told himself, it wasn't the intent of the words. It was just that phrase. "I'm glad I didn't fall in with the wrong sort."

Harry nearly crowed when Malfoy's head swiveled in his direction. Ron's sharp gasp went unnoticed, as he was currently being glared at.

"We are leaving, Malfoy."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Malfoy rasped, blinking and clutching his throat awkwardly. Harry touched his arm and the blond flinched.

"Yes, we are," Harry stated slowly as if talking to a very small child. "I'm going to Apparate us both."

"You're going to what?"

Harry pulled out his wand, his grin dimming with the shine of consciousness in Malfoy's eyes. "Oh, no you don't, you are not leaving me again." He shook his childhood rival, hoping for some glimmer of anything, but he didn't even get the violent reaction he had received in the Ministry holding cell.

"Harry, you need to get going, mate."

"Time?"

Ron stared at him dumbfounded. "Come again."

"Time, you know the thing that clocks and watches tell us. How much time until Kingsley arrives?"

"About two minutes."

"Shit!" Harry cursed, bowing his head. He examined Malfoy's face again, praying that somewhere the other man had some idea of what he was going to do. "Please, Malfoy."

"One minute."

"Not helping, Ron," Harry growled, gripping Malfoy's arm tightly.

"Sorry."

"Me too."

He gazed at the redhead with a wistful sigh, before withdrawing his wand. Closing his eyes, allowing himself to only see the interior of his abandoned house, he Apparated with a loud crack.

Ron winced and rubbed at his ears. For all the power that Harry held, he made an awful lot of racket when coming or going. With a rueful look at the empty sofa, Ron withdrew his own wand and Apparated home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Notes:** Written for the anonymous exchange on livejournal at hpslashnotsmut. The request was for plot post HBP where Harry had to deal with Draco after the events of the book and that they still get into a relationship. Also she wanted mentor!Snape and it's Snape, who am I to resist that request?

Beta'd by Rakina, Arenas, and Xos2ed

* * *

_Part Three_

Harry barely was able to prevent Malfoy from cracking his head on the floor by twisting them as they fell so Harry hit the ground instead. Gasping, he saw lights dancing before his eyes, unable to move. His eyes fell shut, and his hand rested lightly on Malfoy's lower back.

"Prat," he exhaled after a long moment. He pushed the lifeless body off him, lowering the blond's body to the floor. Malfoy's eyes were shut, which worried Harry until he saw the slow rise and fall of his chest and his eyes darting behind his lids. Dreaming, or more likely unconscious from Apparating; either was welcome. Seeing Malfoy stare out vacantly was enough to give anyone gooseflesh.

Harry gazed around the room, inhaling musty air. Dust hung in the air illuminated by the gap in the curtains covering the window. It felt like ages since he had been here. Rubbing his stiff neck and sore tailbone, he levitated Malfoy onto the couch, before standing.

Crossing the room unimpeded he threw open the window looking out into the vast backyard. Harry reached up, undid the lock on the window and hefted it open. Fresh air raced into the room and Harry couldn't help but close his eyes while inhaling. Ages had passed since he had been in the country and he hadn't realized how much he had missed it. Missed this house. His fingers traced trails of dust over the piano, and he carefully lifted the cover off the keys. His fingers found the C key and he plunked it, glancing at Malfoy. The blond was still asleep, but he didn't look to be in any pain.

Harry pulled off the sheet that had been draped over the stool and seated himself upon it. He wasn't sure what he was going to play as one hand ran up and down the scales slowly. He wondered idly if Malfoy had ever played a duet before as his fingers finally caught onto a tune. Brahms' _Lullaby_. He snorted at his own predictability as he played through the song. He was rusty, he admitted as his fingers ran astray and he played some awfully harsh-sounding chords, but considering he hadn't touched a piano since the war had ended he was amazed at how easily it all came back to him.

_"Harry."_

His fingers slipped off the keys and he bowed his head. A lone tear curled down his cheek and silently he closed the lid over the keys shielding them from sight. Ghostly arms wrapped over his neck and he was suddenly flooded with memories. He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered as sobs threatened to overtake him.

_"Harry, come and eat, you've been playing that thing for hours now."_

_"Coming, Ginny."_

_She laughed, her brown eyes sparkling warmly as he entered the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist._

_He nuzzled her neck, inhaling lavender and vanilla. "Love you so much," he murmured, his arms tightening around her, too afraid to let go. The bulge of her stomach, his child, pressed against him and his hand went to rest on it. "Love you too."_

_Ginny kissed the side of his mouth and his eyes locked with hers. He ran his fingers through her wine-colored hair, before framing her face and kissing her gently._

The ghost arms squeezed him tightly, before disappearing with the memory. With watery eyes, he turned his head to look at where Malfoy was still sleeping peacefully.

"Merlin, Ginny, this is so messed up."

He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm and went towards the front door. He exited the house and leaned against the front door, inhaling sharply. Malfoy wouldn't be going anywhere, and if something bad happened to him the bracelet would heat and he would go back immediately. But first, he needed to make a few visits.

Harry shoved his hands in his jean pockets, his trainers squelching in the muddy road as he made his way down the unpaved road. He stopped in front of a small house with an overgrown lawn, frowning. He could hear the faint strains of a wireless from the open window and hoped that was a good sign. Going up the stone path, he lifted the knocker and let it go three times, before stepping backwards.

Warm May air surrounded him, easing the chill from his bones, and the memories from his mind.

"Who is it?"

A huge grin split Harry's face at the familiar voice. "Harry, ma'am."

"Harry?" The door opened a crack and Harry tried his best to look apologetic. "Harry!" The door swung all the way open, revealing the elderly woman he had hoped to see.

"Mrs. Hollingberry."

Harry was suddenly enveloped in a large, bone-crushing hug. His arms went around the frail woman as he returned the gesture. He wasn't expecting the smack on the shins with her cane. Harry doubled over, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain as he gripped his throbbing leg.

"Just where have you been, young man?" she scolded, and Harry raised his hands to his ears in protective manner. He didn't think they'd survive the abuse after what Hermione had done at the beginning of the week.

His voice was an octave higher as he answered, "Working, ma'am."

She eyed him up and down, and he knew she could tell he had been crying a few minutes ago. "Working, my weathered arse." Harry sighed, still massaging his bruised leg. "What happened to you, child?"

"I—"

Ester clicked her tongue reprovingly and ushered him into her house before shutting the door behind them. Her home always smelled of fresh linen, and that never failed to surprise him.

Whiskers blinked lethargically at him, before leaping off his chair and going over to rub between his legs multiple times.

"Hullo, Whiskers."

The cat meowed plaintively, and Harry bent over lifting the Siamese cat into his arms.

"Sit," the elderly woman instructed, pushing him towards Whiskers' recliner. Harry went without much fuss and sat in the warm chair. "Now just what is going on?"

"I—I'm here with a friend."

An arched brow told him more than her next words that she expected more, and perhaps thought there was something deeper to his words. "A friend?"

"He's ill, and his family was unable to take care of him anymore," Harry explained, pulling a cover story out of thin air. He really had to think of a better one for Malfoy's sudden appearance in his life, but this one worked for now, and maybe if he built on it, he'd be able to convince all his other neighbors of it.

"Oh, the poor dear, what's the matter with him?"

"No one is sure." He felt safe at least saying that much.

She scanned his face, her dark eyes sweeping over his form searchingly. "And you left him alone?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, before a blush coloured his cheeks. "Yes."

"Harry James!"

Harry turned away to hide his smile. He did have the oddest choice in company, he reflected. They all liked to scold him. "I need to ask you a favor, I hoped I wouldn't be leaving him alone for too long."

"You really must invest in a phone, dear."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry knew she was right, but at the time he had bought the house he and Ginny had just wanted

to be alone. "I'll look into that."

"Good. Now what is this favor you're wanting?"

Harry worried his lower lip as he stroked the soft fur of the cat on his lap. "I need you to 'babysit' my friend when I'm at work."

"Is that all?"

"What?"

She patted his cheek and mussed his hair, before stamping her cane once. "Dear, I would love to watch your friend…what is his name by the way?"

"Draco, Draco Malfoy."

"Odd name."

Harry shrugged. "He grew up in an odd family."

"Harry, that is an incredibly rude thing to say." Her eyes twinkled and Harry scowled. "Now, when do you need me to come over?"

"Tomorrow morning at seven, if that is all right with you," he hastened to add. He didn't want to pressure her into making this decision. The mere fact that she would need to be taught how to feed the blond, and the idea that Malfoy could wake up at any time sat heavily in his mind. Also, after his two year absence, he really did not deserve her help at all. Certainly, he had penned her the odd letter here and there, but they hadn't been as close as they'd been after Ginny- no, he wouldn't think about her.

Ester hummed thoughtfully, her cane hitting out a steady rhythm on the old threadbare carpeting.

"Will Misty-love be there?"

Harry grinned. He'd go and fetch his cat that night; the ball of fur would be extremely angry at him for leaving her in the first place. His grin faded as he realized that he was seriously considering staying the night in his house. He wasn't sure he could do it. "Yes."

"Lovely, I'll bring Whiskers with me as well."

Silence stretched between them at that proclamation, and Harry stood slowly, waiting for Whiskers to jump off his lap first. "I need to get back."

The gray-haired woman followed him to the door. "Don't be a stranger, Harry."

A pang of guilt hit him so strongly he almost needed to grab the doorframe, almost, but he didn't let it show how badly he felt. "I won't," Harry replied. "Thank you for doing this for me. You really didn't have to."

"Pish-tosh, of course I did, now get home to your friend."

"Yes, ma'am." He pecked her cheek fondly as she squeezed his arms. "See you tomorrow."

The walk back to his tiny cottage of a home felt longer than it was. His hand rested on the rusty doorknob that he couldn't bring himself to turn. A part of him was telling him to run, now, while he still had the chance. It was only Malfoy in there, not someone he actually cared about.

He turned the knob and opened the door.

* * *

Draco knew at once that his surroundings were different. For one thing, Azkaban had never been this quiet – the screams and cries of prisoners were non-stop day and night – and for another it never smelled like his favorite brand of tea. With great trepidation, he opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by sunlight filtering through the Venetian blinds.

Draco sat up, uncertain of his situation. If he had died, this was an awful funny sort of afterlife. The room was airy and open, the only furniture being the bed he was lying on and the bureau with mirror directly across from him. On the bureau there was a glass vase holding a bunch of lilacs, their sweet scent mingling with the smell of mint tea. The light, twinkling notes from a piano in another room drifted through the room and calmed him.

"Oh my."

Draco turned his head towards the startled voice and saw an elderly lady standing in the doorframe, holding a cup of tea. His favorite tea. He narrowed his eyes, taking in her appearance shrewdly. Muggle, he determined after a moment. There wasn't even a hint of magic around her.

"You're awake."

"So it would seem," he drawled, frowning at the rasping quality of his voice. He clutched his throat in concern.

While underused, it shouldn't have sounded like that. The cup and saucer were pushed into his hands gently, and he realized, much to his embarrassment, that he couldn't keep his hands from trembling.

"Here," the old woman took first the saucer and then the cup away from him, setting them on the bedside table.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she brought the cup up to his cracked lips with steady hands, and he took a deep sip. He sighed as the heavenly drink slid down his throat, soothing the raw feeling and warming him from head to toe.

"If you are wondering where Harry is, I'm afraid you just missed him," she told him.

"Harry?" he questioned wearily. If this was a dream, it was a rather mean one, and odd. But he hadn't dreamt in ages so he brushed aside that idea right away. No, either he really was dead, or something had happened, something he couldn't remember. After all, there had to be a damn good explanation as to why a Muggle woman was taking care of him, and why he was in these atrocious pajamas.

"Harry Potter," she answered, setting the empty teacup on the saucer.

"Potter?" Draco blurted out before he could stop himself.

"So, you are awake then."

Both Draco and the strange woman turned towards the door to see Harry standing there in what appeared to be a Auror uniform, a high level one at that. The other man stood differently as well, more world-weary but confident in himself, a vast change from the scrawny, pathetic nineteen-year-old he had once been.

"He just woke up."

Potter nodded, a small frown marring his features. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Why do you care, Potter?"

Potter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Ma'am, if you'd excuse us—"

"I'll leave now. Don't let him get you down, dear," she whispered, as if Draco couldn't hear her less than five feet away.

"I won't." The soft smile on Potter's face didn't surprise him at all. It would be like him to befriend every Muggle in sight.

"There's a good lad," she murmured, kissing his forehead before leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Draco watched as Potter made his way to stand next to the window, leaning against its edge. The other man seemed no more inclined to speak to him than he did to Potter.

"Well?" he bit out in irritation.

Potter turned, expressionless. "I'm supposed to take care of you; it's my duty to wonder if you feel better. I can leave if you are."

"Is that why you showed up so soon?"

"No. I showed up because you were frightened and this bloody thing wanted to burn the flesh from my arm."

He pushed back the sleeve of his robe to reveal a metal bracelet. One that bore a strange resemblance to the ones mothers put on their younger children.

"It should have."

Potter scowled, but the malice Draco had been expecting wasn't there. No, Potter was angry, but he also appeared resigned, maybe even relieved. Not the emotions he had intended on evoking.

"I'm sure you wished it would," Harry muttered, before peering between the blinds.

Draco watched him uncertain of what had just happened. Potter wasn't acting like he should and the unfamiliarity of the situation nettled him. He frowned, bringing his trembling arms to his chest, crossing them.

"Where am I?"

"Ester didn't tell you?"

Draco shook his head. "No, the daft old woman said nothing except that you would explain."

"She's not daft."

"What?" Potter turned to look at him again, his eyes glazed with a sheen of tears. "For Merlin's sake Potter, you aren't crying are you?"

The dark-haired man seemed confused by his question, before raising a hand to his eyes. Draco itched to throw a hex at Potter for being such a child. It wasn't like there was anything worth crying over in the room, aside from the ugly clothing he was wearing and he supposed his hair was mussed beyond saving.

"Damn it!" Potter swore, turning his attention back to the window.

"Potter, will you just tell me where the fuck I am!" Draco spat, trying not to slide back down under the covers. He was so tired, so very tired, but he'd be damned if he let Potter know it.

"Swaledale."

"Come again?" Surely he hadn't just heard that they were in sheep country, there was no way Potter would kidnap him and bring him here. Especially if he was still going to work – the journey would be hell. Potter rounded on him, his eyes red-rimmed, and Draco sneered. "Still crying, Potter? One would think you enjoyed kidnapping me, not hated it. What kind of Auror are you?

"You know what, Malfoy, shut up," Potter hissed, his eyes flashing. The other man crossed the room to the door, anger in each step. Finally a normal response, Draco thought victoriously. That was, until Potter had to add. "You know nothing, nothing at all."

It really wasn't fair, he rationalized when Potter slammed the door behind him. The black-haired man had never been that melodramatic before. If he wanted any answers at all, Draco supposed he'd have to cozy up to Potter. He shivered and sank down beneath the blankets.

* * *

Harry slumped onto the couch and closed his eyes. His Auror robes had been shrugged off and laid in a pile on the floor along with his shoes. He had known for some time that Malfoy was going to start questioning things. He had known it for weeks now. More and more often the blond had woken up confused and disoriented, but never this alert. Harry wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't temporary any longer, that Malfoy would in fact be in his right mind once again. He couldn't say he wasn't grateful because he was. He was grateful that he would be able to leave this house.

Malfoy had no right to ask after him, none whatsoever. He had been in no position to question him. The prat was weaponless for Merlin's sake! Harry gripped his hair and pulled it tightly.

_"What's the matter, love?"_

_"Nothing." She stared at him, folding her arms across her chest in disbelief. Wind through the window swept around the base of her dress, flaring it with each gust. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I've got a surprise for you."_

_Ginny smiled, clasping his hand gently with her own. Harry grinned. Did she know how much he loved her? He spun her in a circle, just to hear her laugh, before leading her down the hallway towards their room._

_"Close your eyes," he instructed._

_She laughed, her eyes slipping shut. "What is going on?"_

_"You'll see."_

_"Even with my eyes shut?" Ginny teased._

_Harry pinched her and she laughed again. He prodded her gently into their bedroom, unable to resist grabbing her bottom. Ginny yelped, and Harry had to cover her eyes with his hand as she made to open them._

_"No peeking."_

_"But, Harry-" Harry guided her over to the window and turned her around to face their bureau. "This had better be good."_

_"You'll love it," he whispered, pulling his hand from her eyes. "Open them."_

_He watched as she blinked, staring around their room searching for the difference. Finally she spotted it, he could tell immediately. Her freckled face lit up like the sun and she spun around, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him down for a kiss._

_"I love them, Harry. They're gorgeous."_

_"I'm glad," he breathed, resting his head on her forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of the fresh lilacs on their dresser. Her warm, brown eyes met his, sparkling. He could hardly breathe as he asked, "Marry me?"_

_"Yes."_

Harry's eyes were forced open when something heavy landed on him. Misty stared at him disdainfully as if she could tell what he was thinking. He ran a hand across his cat's back, sighing heavily. He needed to get out of there and soon. Before Malfoy could work out what had him so bothered.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," Ester greeted cheerfully as she entered his bedroom. It had been two days since Draco had last seen Potter. There was nothing he could do about it, confined to this room as he was. It shouldn't have upset him that Potter had finally buggered off after a week of constant attention.

"What's so good about it?" he grumbled, swinging his feet off the bed. He could finally walk again. Not for great distances, but he managed to get around the house easily enough. At least, when Potter wasn't there forcing him to lie down and not move as he crammed soup down his throat. When asked why, he never got the same answer. If he had wanted mothering, he could have asked his mother to do it.

Ester scolded him half-heartedly as she went around the bed to throw open the curtains. "Where's Mr. Potter this morning?"

"Out," Draco bit out. If the crazy old woman had no idea where her precious Potter was it wasn't his problem.

"For two days now?"

Draco scowled. "If you knew he was gone, why even bother asking?"

"Draco." There was a harshness to her tone he wasn't anticipating. She had never snapped at him before, and had been extremely patient in everything. Maybe Potter's presence was a buffer, and now he was going to find out what this Muggle had to say to him.

"You have not been given permission to use my first name."

She continued on as if she hadn't heard him. "If you think you can get away with sulking all day long you are entirely mistaken. Just because Mr. Potter has left you alone does not give you the right to behave in such an appalling manner. I, for one, find it a disgrace to have you waste away pining in this bedroom."

"I am not pining!"

Ester snorted inelegantly and Draco's eyes bulged. She was serious, she really thought he was wasting away over Potter's absence. He was not some love struck female! He was Draco Lucien Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy Estate, and he would be damned if he let some old bint talk to him in that manner. He'd show her that he wasn't 'pining'.

His feet hit the cold, hardwood floor and he brushed past her without a word.

* * *

Harry groaned deeply as he sank further into his seat at the restaurant. Amanda was poking him with the end of a spoon and Brigit was just staring at him like she didn't even know who he was anymore. Two months… it had been two months since he had taken Draco Malfoy from his flat to his old home and it had been more than a week since he had been able to bring himself to check up on the bastard.

Although, if the twins were going to continue doing this, he didn't think he'd have another choice. The waitress, a pretty, blonde thing with legs that went on for miles, shot him a sympathetic smile as she waltzed past.

Clearly, it was time to leave.

"Uncle Harry, why aren't you talkin' to us?" Amanda whined, putting the spoon down on the table with a dramatic huff. "Cause you haven't been, you know. Are you sick?"

"Maybe he's gots the flu like Draco did," Brigit said seriously, bringing her small, ketchup-covered hand to his cheek. Harry resigned himself to the little girl's ministrations as she felt his head in imitation of what her mother would do.

Amanda shook her head, dismissing the idea out of hand. "Nah, can't be that, he'd be all still."

"Well, he isn't talkin', like Draco weren't," Brigit pointed out, staring down at her red hands in confusion. Harry sighed, picked up his napkin, grabbed her hands and wiped off the ketchup. He should have known better than to let her eat chips instead of a normal meal. Ketchup always ended up everywhere, usually on her trousers when she would drop a chip on them. He'd been lucky that night, she had been fairly careful while eating.

Amanda on the other hand, had a smear of jam down her shirt from her sandwich.

If he had known that all they wanted were chips and sandwiches, he could have stayed at Ron and Hermione's and made the food there. Brigit snatched the napkin from Harry's fingers and proceeded to clean off his cheek haphazardly.

She pulled back, beaming. "There."

"Am I better now?" he asked.

Amanda shook her head. "No, you sound sad."

"Mandy's right, Uncle Harry, why are you so sad today?"

Harry shrugged, attempting to smile, positive it came out more as a grimace. "Let's go and clean you girls up; does that sound good?"

"Will you stop bein' sad and stuff if we say yes?" Amanda asked, clearly thinking he'd say no. As if he could – it was getting late and they needed baths.

"I promise that I'll be really happy, and stop being sad and stuff," he said with mock-seriousness. The twins looked at each other skeptically. Harry crossed his fingers beneath the table that they believed him because if that flighty waitress came over just to ooze sympathy at him one more time, he'd hex her, Muggle restaurant or not.

Brigit finally broke the long stare with her twin sister and nodded her head, curly red hair flying everywhere. "Okay, Uncle Harry, but only 'cause you promised."

Harry pulled out his wallet and chucked a few notes on the table before sliding out, shoving Amanda out of the way playfully. The four-year-old giggled, and tugged on his hand when he pretended to get stuck.

"I'm afraid I can't move," he lamented, bowing his head just so that he could observe Amanda and Brigit without them noticing. Brigit came over with her hands on her hips and a flustered expression that was so like her grandmother's that Harry almost laughed. Molly would be proud.

He finally let them "pull" him out from behind the table and made a show of staggering about once he was out. Before they could stop him, he hefted each of them up into his arms by their waists.

"Ready to go?" he asked. He felt better. Maybe ketchup to the face was all he had needed. Ron would certainly be harassing him a lot less at work. How many times did he need to say he didn't miss the ferret? He chose to ignore the fact that he was going to take his nieces there right then.

With one little girl in each arm, he wound his way through the tables to the exit. He'd go to his flat first, and from there he would take the Floo home.

* * *

"Damn it, Potter," Draco snarled as he went through the fifth cabinet in the kitchen only to find nothing at all. He jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. No one was supposed to be in this house but him and that blasted cat of Potter's that didn't know when to leave him the hell alone. So, unless the cat suddenly grew and developed very human fingers then--

"Language, Malfoy," came Potter's chiding tone. He turned around so fast he almost fell over. Giggling from the doorway had him craning his neck to see over Potter's taller frame. "There are children in the room."

Draco sneered and ducked under Potter's arm as the other man made to grab something off the top shelf. It turned out to be a can of chicken noodle soup. Delightful! He swore if he never saw another bowl of soup it would be too soon.

"I am not eating that."

He eyed the soup warily as he sat down on a chair at the kitchen table. Potter blew some dust off the top of the can, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I don't blame you."

The two girls gawked at him as they made to sit on the same chair across from him, their bright blue eyes watching him expectantly. He couldn't even begin to fathom what they could want from him. Potter seemed unconcerned by this, and just petted them both on the head distractedly as he went over to the bin and chucked the unopened can inside.

"You're awake."

"You sound like Ester," Draco shot back, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He wasn't used to having children stare at him in concern. He wasn't used to children at all.

The one on the right side of the chair cocked her head to the side, her pigtails falling across her face. Draco watched as Potter moved forward and tied the yellow ribbon that had come undone, before dropping a kiss to her head.

"Who's Ester?" The other girl asked, drawing his attention.

Draco grunted, barely resisting drumming his fingers on the table. Potter was still puttering around the kitchen opening and closing the same cupboards Draco had just rummaged through moments ago. If Potter didn't believe him when he had implied there was a lack of food, it wasn't his problem. He gazed at the other man's back as it tensed, his shoulder blades drawing together, and then sagging forward in defeat.

Without moving, he said, "We'll go to the market tomorrow."

"Market?" Draco scowled.

Potter turned around with a resigned expression. "Yes, that place where you buy food? The market."

Draco's scowl took on a hint of loathing. "I am not doing something as plebian as going to the market."

"Oh, yes you are. You're really not in any position to argue this either. I can very easily make you go on your own." Draco's jaw dropped in shock, a rebuttal hanging on the tip of his tongue, but Potter wouldn't let him say it. "And before you even think it, I will tell Ester some sob story about how your self-esteem is so low you're afraid of what will happen when you go. Then you'll get the pleasure of having her take you to the market instead. I'm sure you're terribly excited to hear about the time Whiskers caught a mouse that had been building a nest in her walls."

"Bastard."

The girls giggled, and bowed their heads together as if to hide them. Potter smirked, and told the girls to follow him to the bathroom so he could wash them. Draco got the feeling this would be a very long night.

* * *

"Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, darling?" Harry worked the baby shampoo into Brigit's hair as Amanda played with a dragon figurine at the other end of the bathtub. He tipped his head and looked into her face curiously. She giggled, pushing at his nose with a soapy hand.

She gasped when he took the opportunity to upturn a cup of warm water over her head. Brigit spluttered making Amanda giggle. She turned her head and stuck her tongue out at the other girl, and Harry took the opportunity to flick some water at the older of the twins. Maybe if he distracted them, they'd forget any questions they had. Chief among them about Draco's continued presence in his home when he was better.

"So, Draco's all better then?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, love."

"He looks better," Amanda commented as if she had good authority on the matter. "He was talking and everything."

"He even said a bad word."

"Yup, he did; Mummy wouldn't be happy to know that."

"What does bast-"

Amanda looked up at Harry in confusion when he covered her mouth to prevent her from finishing her question. He could just about hear Hermione shrieking in his ear about how her babies learned such language. He sighed, letting his hand fall into the water.

"Why'd you put your hand on my mouth, Uncle Harry?"

"Because you were about to say a bad word." He glanced around, before leaning in. He mentally grinned when the girls followed suit, clearly excited to be sharing a secret with him. Harry spared a thought as to what Malfoy could be doing. The house was standing and the bracelet on his wrist was cool, so it was nothing dangerous, but that still didn't prevent him from being curious. "Do you want to know why I don't want you repeating that word?"

They shook their heads, sending droplets of water flying through the air. "Why?"

"Because your Mum scares the pants off me when she's angry, that's why." He lowered his voice dramatically before adding, "Do you think you could help me by not ever saying that word ever again?"

Brigit's eyes went wide and she was already nodding before he could finish the request. Amanda, however, did not look persuaded.

"I'll take you out for ice cream later."

"'Kay!"

Harry suspected that one day ice cream would no longer sway them, but for now he was more than happy to indulge them. As long as Hermione or Ron never heard them say that word he was safe, he just wished he knew for how long.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Notes:** Written for the anonymous exchange on livejournal at hpslashnotsmut. The request was for plot post HBP where Harry had to deal with Draco after the events of the book and that they still get into a relationship. Also she wanted mentor!Snape and it's Snape, who am I to resist that request?

Beta'd by Rakina, Arenas, and Xos2ed

* * *

_Part Four_

The next afternoon Harry and Draco were heading into town. Draco found something to criticize every step of the way, but Harry chose to just ignore him. The weather was perfect and he wasn't going to let Malfoy ruin it for him. It had been too long since he had been able to wander around the country just for the hell of it, and he was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Every whining word," Harry answered, not even bothering to look at the blond. He didn't have to, he could feel the scowl directed at him.

Malfoy muttered something under his breath, and Harry found he didn't care what the surly man had to say this time. He glanced up at the sky, spotting storm clouds in the distance. Their distance was the only comfort they gave Harry. A storm was the last thing he wanted to get stuck in with Malfoy. He blinked when suddenly Malfoy sped up in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

The blond threw a dirty look over his shoulder. "Getting this trip over with."

Harry smirked and shook his head. Really, if Malfoy insisted on acting like a seven year old, he was going to be treated that way as well. He already had his two nieces to worry about. He didn't need another child to add into the equation. "You do realize at the speed you're walking you'll be tired out before we're even halfway there, right?"

Malfoy slowed down a fraction, letting Harry catch up to him. "Just how far are we going?"

"You're finally asking?"

"Potter," Malfoy snarled. "Just tell me how much further I'm going to be walking."

Harry looked the man over with a frown. His cheeks were turning pink, and he suspected it was more from the sun than exertion, but it was the slight tremor in his frame that was bothersome. He wouldn't point it out if Malfoy didn't bring it up first.

"It'll take another ten minutes or so."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Positive, once we get down this hill we'll be in town."

"Only you would voluntarily wish to stay here in sheep country, Potter."

"I'm sorry if it isn't up to your usual standards, Malfoy. Would you rather I had left you alone to starve?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Harry waited for the inevitable answer. The other man wasn't stupid. He knew how the metal band on his wrist affected him. The piece of jewelry was reflecting the sun's rays, making it shine and very hard to miss. He couldn't wait until he could finally take it off.

"You couldn't."

Harry sighed. "No, I couldn't."

Malfoy fell silent much to Harry's delight. The rest of the trip was spent walking in silence. Harry didn't comment when Malfoy chose to stay close to his side.

The market square was fairly busy for a weekday. Harry glanced around at all the street vendors, taking in all the fresh produce. It once again struck him how long it had been since he had been here, and how much he missed it. There had been a reason for his move here, and this right here was one of them.

"Come on," he muttered, gripping Malfoy's elbow and steering him towards a fruit vendor. The woman manning the cart smiled in a friendly way as Harry browsed through the various types.

"Bananas."

"What?" Harry glanced up to see Malfoy standing a few feet away, his gaze on the ground. "Bananas?"

"Yes."

Harry shrugged, grabbing a bunch of them. They still had a bit of green to them, which suited him just fine. They would last longer. "Anything else?"

"Does she have any pears?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Harry laughed, picking up a melon and pressing it with his fingers to see if any of it was soft. His eyes flickered up to see the amusement of the vendor. He hated to admit that he was having a good time of this. Who knew picking out fruit would be safe common ground? Who knew Malfoy liked fruit? That thought almost made him snicker, but he managed to prevent himself from doing so. One of them had to remain sane-sounding.

"Don't belittle me."

Harry set the melon down and turned in confusion. "What?"

"I said, don't belittle me, Potter. I'm not one of your nieces and I'm not an invalid."

"I'm sorry."

"You'd better be," Malfoy grumbled, pushing him aside so he was in front of the cart instead. Harry let him do as he wanted, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the square. It shouldn't have surprised him that Malfoy would get uptight over being teased, but then, it wasn't like they were friends or anything. They just happened to be in the same house, by necessity.

Harry was still considering leaving once the house was sufficiently stocked with food. Malfoy could fend for himself. And if the worst came to the worst, well, Harry would know right away. He shivered, folding his arms across his chest. The wind was beginning to pick up, never a good sign. He cast his gaze heavenward only to see the blue sky from earlier was clouding over.

"Malfoy, did you get your pears?"

"Yes," he said, holding out the plastic bag full of the fruit. Harry counted exactly five pears and kept that in mind for later. He didn't know when or why he'd need to know what Malfoy's favorite fruit was, but it certainly couldn't hurt either.

Harry paid for the melon, bananas, and pears in a hurry. Malfoy stood off to the side, looking around him with feigned disinterest. Harry wondered if he had ever had to go shopping for food before in his life.

"A storm's coming," he said after a few minutes, startling Harry completely. They were browsing some vegetables and Harry had been reaching for some summer peas when Malfoy had spoken.

"Want to head back?"

Malfoy shook his head, blond hair falling in a shambles over his face. "No."

"All right."

* * *

Potter was laughing and spinning in a circle as they headed back up the hill towards the house. It had started pouring before they had left, and Draco couldn't see what was so funny about it. He was drenched and miserable and wanted to be dry. Potter on the other hand looked like Christmas had come early. The other man was making it a point, he was sure, to jump in every puddle and get as muddy as possible.

Potter laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Join me, Draco."

"I rather think not." And since when was he Draco? He didn't ask, but he was curious. Potter had been nothing but stand-offish with him since he had come back, and here he was holding out his hand with the expression of a kicked puppy, waiting for him to join in with puddle jumping.

"It's fun though."

"Potter, you're a lunatic, did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yes."

Draco frowned and folded his arms across his chest. Gooseflesh was appearing up his arms and his vision was blurring. Why couldn't Potter just stop acting stupid and hurry up? Thunder crackled in the distance, lightning splitting the sky.

"You're filthy," he pointed out, glaring at the mud on Potter's khakis. The black-haired man didn't seem overly concerned about his apparel and Draco supposed he wouldn't have to. One wave of the bleeding wand and his clothes would be as good as new. Shame Draco couldn't say the same about his own. The plastic bags bit into his hands, and it hurt more than normal because of the rain.

"And you're wet."

"Nutter," Draco muttered, picking up the pace. His shoes squelched on the muddy road as he climbed the hill. He stumbled on a rock and slid backwards into something solid. He froze when hands settled on his waist stabilizing him. No one had touched him in so long, not even Ester had dared touch him and he leaned backwards craving more of it, but unable to say it in words. He hadn't wanted to miss it, had tried to tell himself as he had watched Potter bathe his nieces the night before that he didn't miss casual touches, or any touch at all.

"Are you all right?" Potter whispered, his voice low and right against his ear. Draco could only nod, both wishing and not wishing that Potter would remove his hands. "You certain?"

"Y-yes."

Potter moved away with a softly whispered. "Prat."

Draco couldn't tell if he was actually swaying or not when Potter released him, but it didn't matter because just as his vision blacked out he felt arms pick him up with a sure swiftness and he knew no more.

* * *

Harry lay down on his bed, listening to the rain on the roof. The storm was raging around them outside, but Harry's thoughts were internal. He hated himself. Why couldn't he just continue hating Malfoy like he was supposed to? He wasn't supposed to be amused when the blond got angry, and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to find it heartbreaking the way Malfoy had snuggled in his arms like a small child. It had occurred to him that Malfoy wouldn't be used to touch, but he hadn't expected the needy reaction he had achieved.

Scrubbing his eyes, he pulled the top sheet over him, curling into a tight ball. He couldn't explain why he had been trying to get Malfoy to loosen up, or why he'd even want the uptight prick to do so. Harry sighed, burrowing his head against the pillow, letting the rain lull him to sleep.

_ "Give me your hand."_

"_Aw, Ginny, I'm tired."_

"_Git."_

_She grabbed his hand regardless and set it on her bulging stomach. Five months along, and Harry still found her absolutely gorgeous. He turned his head on the pillow to see her eyes dancing in the dim light of early morning. And then he felt it. A tiny movement beneath his wife's skin that made his stomach flip._

"_Is that?"_

_Ginny nodded, bringing up his hand and kissing the pads of his fingers. Harry let her do this, his eyes falling shut._

"_I love you," he murmured, into her soft hair._

"_I know you do."_

_Harry's eyes shot open in shock. It wasn't red hair anymore but blond, and he wasn't smelling strawberries but honey and oatmeal. Malfoy's eyes were soft as he stared at him, kissing the palm of Harry's hand. _

"_What?" Harry croaked._

"_Are you all right, Harry?"_

"_I—n—I--"_

_Malfoy sat up, the white bed sheet slipping off his bare chest, the picture of concern._

"_Harry?" A cool hand settled on his forehead, feeling for fever._

"_You're not Ginny."_

"_No."_

"_I don't--"_

_Soft lips pressed to his forehead and Harry shuddered, leaning into the caress. "Hush love, go back to sleep."_

"_But you're not—"_

"_Sleep," Malfoy pressed, pushing Harry back against the bed with one hand. "Sleep."  
_

Harry was awake before he even realized it. He slipped out of bed silently, putting on his slippers. It was still dark but he couldn't lie back down. What was the matter with him? Dreaming of Malfoy like that? It was disgusting and Merlin, Ginny!

He sat down hard, holding his stomach as it cramped painfully. How could he even subconsciously disregard her like that? He had to get out of there. Picking up his wand off the bedside table, he summoned his Auror robes and shoes, slipping them on. He stared at the open door, listening for any noises but nothing could be heard above the rain.

With a loud crack that shook the house, he Apparated to Ron and Hermione's house, crashing onto their couch before he let himself cry.

* * *

Ron rested a hand on his wife's shoulder as he leaned over kissing her temple gently. He had to be in for work early that morning and he didn't want to wake her up. Sitting up, he carefully moved from the bed to the closet, grabbing his work robe and a nice shirt. He wouldn't be out in the field today because it was inspections. He just hoped Harry remembered that as well.

"You're leaving?" Hermione mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. "It's early."

"Yeah, I know it is, but I'll be back for lunch."

She grinned sleepily. "You'd better be."

Ron pressed his lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss. He would have loved to have been able to stay in bed longer, but unfortunately for him he really did have to go to work or risk suspension.

"Have a good day," Hermione's drowsy call followed him out onto the landing. Ron smiled as he pulled on his robes, going down the stairs. It took him a few moments to realize just what was wrong when he got to the bottom. He moved into the living room, concern etched across his features. When had Harry shown up? It had to have been either very early this morning, or really late the night before. But that wasn't what was bothering him the most. No, it was the dried tear tracks on the other man's face that felt like a punch in the gut. Harry had been crying? He couldn't even recall the last time he had seen that happen. Ages ago, not since—Ron frowned at his own thoughts.

"Harry." He shook the shorter man, watching as green eyes slowly came into view. He could already see the beginnings of confusion take over Harry's still sleep clouded mind, and helpfully supplied an answer for him.

"You're on my couch, mate, what happened?"

"Your couch?"

"That's right, my couch," Ron repeated, helping Harry sit up. "Mind telling me why you're on it? Not that I mind or anything, but we do have a guest room for a reason."

Harry sank back against the couch blankly. If Ron didn't know better, he'd say he was almost as depressed as when the accident happened.

"Harry?"

"I'm all right, Ron."

"You were crying."

"Hermione cries, does she get the second degree?"

"No, because normally I'm the cause of her crying, and if it's not me she's open about it. She knows she can ask for help and get it." Ron sighed, sitting down next to his friend. "I thought you knew that too." Harry flushed and Ron slung an arm over his shoulder, shaking him playfully. "So, what's bothering you?"

"Not now, Ron. We have work in ten minutes."

"Bloody hell, Harry. It's inspection day, you aren't planning on going like that."

"Not without a freshening charm and a bite of toast."

Ron rolled his eyes when Harry got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen. He'd find a way to get Harry to talk to him. He just wasn't sure how. Later, he'd ask Hermione for advice. She was good at this sort of thing.

* * *

"Harry."

He glanced up the stairs to where Hermione was standing with Ron behind her in a unified front. His eyes hardened and he shrugged on his jacket. If they thought they could prevent him from going out, they were sorely mistaken. His day at work had been complete shit, not only had he been dressed down for his sloppy appearance, he had also been put on probation, which just meant more office work. Sodding inspection days.

"I'm going out."

"Harry, please."

He buttoned up his jacket ignoring Hermione's plea. "Oliver's going with me. The mobile I gave him should be on."

"Harry, listen to us."

"I might be back tonight." He shrugged, brushing back his black fringe. "See you."

Ron gripped Hermione's arm tightly in warning. This wasn't the time to interfere. When Harry realized they weren't going to intervene he made his way towards the door. Part of him was frantically pleading with them to stop him from doing this, but another part of him was cheering at the victory no matter how pathetic it was.

They watched in silence as he exited through the front door.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Uncle Harry angry wif us?"

Hermione looked down at Brigit on the floor. Amanda was standing in the door to their bedroom, her thumb in her mouth. How long they had been there was uncertain, but it had been long enough. Tears were leaking down their cheeks and Ron went and picked up Amanda. Her arms went around his neck, and she burrowed her head against his neck.

Hermione knelt down on the carpeted landing, opening her arms wide and Brigit crawled over.

"Of course he isn't, sweetie," she crooned, stroking her hair.

"But he doesn't want to come back."

"Bridie's right, he said it. Right, Daddy, you heard him too?"

Ron met Hermione's worried eyes with defeat. They couldn't lie to their children, but telling the truth would be devastating in its own right. No, it was best not to answer at all.

"You're supposed to be in bed," Ron told her instead.

"But Daddy!"

Ron glared at her sternly and he tried not to be affected by the quivering lower lip. He brought her into the bedroom, laying her on her bed, before sitting on the edge of it. Ron brushed some hair off her face, wondering how he had been so lucky to have such perceptive children. He loved them both dearly and only hoped he showed it enough.

Having a job that kept him away during the day had been cutting into the time he spent with his daughters, but they didn't seem to mind being able to see him all weekend. He glanced up to see Hermione settling Brigit in her own bed, pulling the covers up nice and snug.

"He don't hate us, do he?"

"No, love," Ron murmured, kissing Amanda's forehead. "He's just confused. Don't worry, he'll be fine soon."

"How can you know?"

Ron grinned. "Harry's been my best friend since we were eleven. I know how he acts."

Amanda considered this for a moment, before asking, "So, he should be good soon?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Amanda giggled sleepily, and Ron finished tucking her in after standing. He crossed the room, resting his hand on Hermione's lower back as she finished speaking to Brigit. She jerked her head towards the hall and Ron followed the silent cue, crossing the room and exiting the room. He leaned against the railing, waiting for her to finish up and dim the lights. Hermione exited the room, jarring the door behind her. She came to stand next to him, resting her arms on the wooden railing with a sigh.

Ron wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him, burying his face in her frizzy hair, inhaling deeply.

"He's hurting, Ron."

"I know, but there's really nothing we can do about it this time."

"I wish there was."

Ron squeezed her tightly, feeling her fingernails dig into his back. Whoever said she was unfeeling was so horribly wrong. She wasn't a mechanical bookworm, only wrapped up in her books. She had feelings just like everyone. He was ashamed to think that he had once been that way as well. He felt her shiver, and knew she was crying. There was only one way to make this better, and he didn't fancy it one bit. Pushing her away gently, he cupped her chin, tipping it up. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss against her lips, and then pulled back.

"I'll be back," he told her, gripping and releasing her hair as he thought about what he was about to do. At least there was no chance of getting hexed, he'd have the advantage. Lucky, lucky him.

* * *

Draco heard the telltale pop of someone Apparating in, but he hadn't expected to find the Weasel standing behind him.

"Weasley?"

"Malfoy, we need to talk."

"How nice to see you, why don't you come in?" Draco sneered. Damn him anyway. All he had wanted to do was have a good sulk, and now it was being ruined. He pursed his lips, staring up at the redhead.

Weasley snorted and crossed his arms across his chest.

"If you've come here to yell at me—"

"I haven't."

"I- you haven't?" There was a surprise. He had been certain once he had woken up to Potter gone once again that one of his friends would appear to scold him for scaring him off. Apparently, he had thought wrong, and he didn't like being wrong. It meant he didn't know where he stood anymore. Draco didn't want to look nervous, but he knew he had to be doing a shoddy job of it if Weasley could be looking at him sympathetically. That was the last thing he needed. Sympathy.

"No, I haven't."

"Then what have you come here for?" Weasley sat on the piano bench, gripping the edge of it with a determined expression. Draco wondered if someone had put him up to this. Probably Granger, she'd be the one to insist Weasley come and check on him. "Listen, Weasley, I have other things I could be doing so—"

"Has Harry been around recently?"

He glowered. "If you must know, no."

"I thought not." Was that resignation? It couldn't be. Draco tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, studying the heavy lines under Weasley's eyes and the tremble to his arms. If he didn't know better he'd say the red-haired man was sick, but no, it was exhaustion plain and simple. He bet it was Weasley's brats that did it and the thought brightened Draco's mood considerably. Children were exhausting creatures, or so his mother had told him when he was younger.

He glared, staring down his nose at the other man. "Get to the point, Weasley."

"Harry almost lost his job yesterday because of you. He almost lost it two months ago because of you."

"What are you talking about? Potter was always going to be an Auror, I bet he had Headmistress McGonagall write out his references and everything."

"Regardless," Weasley said, brushing aside his comments. Cerulean eyes bored into his head as if trying to make him think. That was a laugh. Draco knew he was at least ten times smarter than Weasley. "People, our superiors, are beginning to think Harry doesn't deserve his position and that he got there through fame alone."

"And this is my problem why?"

"Malfoy, Harry took you into his flat when he shouldn't have. If he had been found out he would have been fired on the spot, no questions asked. Harry _loves _ his job, and he was willing to risk it to make sure you didn't die."

"I still don't see how this is my—"

"Use your head, Malfoy. No, on second thought, use your heart, I'm sure you have one in there somewhere."

Draco snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Weasley if you're trying to make me feel guilty it won't work." It wouldn't because he wouldn't let it. He couldn't let it. He did not care that Potter could lose his job, and that it was his fault. Who cared? He didn't.

"Nothing I say will get you to understand what Harry's going through, will it?"

"Nope," he agreed, examining his nails.

"I swear, Malfoy, if Harry ends up on my couch crying one more time I will kill you, without regard to Ministry laws or precautions. You're still a Death Eater in the eyes of the community and if I were to kill you no one would care. Except Harry."

"Only because of this bloody thing," Draco growled, showing the metal bracelet on his wrist. "He as much as said he wouldn't care what happened to me once they're off."

He was horrified to see Weasley smile. There was no other word to describe the terror he felt at the affectionate smile, clearly meant for the missing man. There should be no affection showing about something he said. None. Draco realized he might have been getting a bit too upset over this, but his head was aching and he just wanted a pear and cup of tea.

"If you really think that then I have nothing more to say to you."

"Potter's such a cry baby," Draco muttered as Weasley walked around him. He flinched when the other man stiffened, freezing in place. And the weasel is a complete wanker, he added mentally, when the irate redhead turned on him. Well, at least he was going to get yelled at like he'd thought he would be.

"If you knew him at all, if you had even a shred of humanity, you would never say that again."

Seething seemed to be the word Draco was thinking of when that red face got in his personal space. If Weasley started foaming at the mouth, he wouldn't be surprised. He was fairly surprised Weasley wasn't already hexing his balls off for saying such a horrible thing about Potter.

"Why?" he drawled, leaning back on the sofa with an air of nonchalance. He tried not to be interested, but failed. Potter had seemed to be more withdrawn and sulky than normal and it was grating on his nerves.

Weasley pulled back, anger still evident in his bright red cheeks, but he was also looking sad. Not defeated, just…melancholy. That was such a wholly unbelievable contrast that Draco wasn't sure if he would even get an answer.

"It's not for me to tell you." Weasley's answer was cryptic and the idea that he deserved to have answers withheld from him never passed his mind. There was something he was missing and no one seemed to want to tell him.

* * *

There were some people you didn't get in the way of when they were angry and Severus Snape was one of them. Like the Red Sea the crowds stilled and parted leaving a direct path to the bar in the back. Some people didn't notice his formidable presence as he bore down on the bar, and some of those people really should have.

He went to the farthest stool with a grimace. How he let himself get into these messes he'd never know. With a sure jab, his intended target fell off the stool ungracefully, landing in a pile of tangled limbs on the floor. The filthy floor was disgusting and needed at least five scrubbings.

"Potter, get up."

"You're not my mum."

"No, your 'mum' is dead and probably rolling in her grave right now. Now you will get off the floor immediately."

"Sir."

"Mr. Wood." Snape nodded in Oliver's direction. The brown-haired Quidditch player tipped his bottle in Snape's direction, before casting a worried look down at Harry who was still on the floor. "For the love of Merlin," Snape grumbled, bending over and picking Harry up by the collar. With hardly any effort, he lifted the short man off the ground and hauled him over his shoulder.

"Thank you for calling Mrs. Granger-Weasley."

"No problem. I--"

"Put me down you bastard! Put me down right now!"

"No."

Harry's hands tightened into fists and he beat against Snape's back, his arms flailing, the world swimming in front of his eyes. Snape jostled him as they made their way back through the crowd, Harry kicking and yelling to be put down, but no one made any move to stop the dark stranger from removing Harry from the club.

"If you vomit on me," Snape said conversationally as they got out of the nightclub and into the night air. "You will have to buy me a new set of clothes and wash these by hand."

Harry scowled and fell silent. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine, sir," Harry spat, squeezing his eyes shut, groaning softly.

"Potter, I'm warning you."

"I know!" Harry cried out as he was set on the ground. He staggered into the side of the building and stayed there, pressed against it as he regained his equilibrium. Snape let him stay there for a few moments, before pulling him against his side.

Harry clung desperately, fighting to stay standing when all he wanted to do was double over and throw up. He was certain Snape would be less than amused by that behavior. He was certain Snape was less than amused by this behavior. And Merlin, he bet Snape was going to bring him back to Ron and Hermione's and not his own flat. He didn't want to go, but he couldn't let go of Snape or he'd be even worse off than he would be facing a sobriety potion and an angry, worried Hermione. He groaned when he felt the world press in against him as they Apparated out of the dingy back alley.

* * *

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall nervously. Ron would be home soon with Harry. They all needed to sit down and talk, but something told her this wouldn't be an easy conversation. The twins were with Molly and Arthur for the afternoon, much to their joy. Molly didn't even hesitate to take them in. Fred and George were there that afternoon as well, and Hermione could only spend a limited amount of worry on how her girls would be behaving when they got back. As much as she loved her brothers in law they were horrible influences, and she didn't particularly want to hear from their preschool teacher that they had been pulling pranks.

The sound of the Floo activating made her tense. This was it. She felt guilty for waylaying Harry unexpectedly like this, but something had to be done. He wasn't only upsetting them; he was upsetting her children, and more importantly, Draco. Her fingers clenched around her teacup as she thought about what had occurred the night before. She didn't want to think about the state Severus had found Harry in, nor the conversation Ron had with Draco, but she had to. She was the only one to get all the stories and process them seamlessly and the results weren't as startling as she would have expected them to be.

Harry.

She never would have thought that so many of her headaches would revolve around him, but there it was. Hermione loved him, she did, but there was only so much whining she could put up with, plus she had a medical interest in Draco and it was clear that his happiness was linked with Harry's happiness. But what was making Harry so upset was something of a mystery to her. In her heart, she knew already what she was certain Harry would reveal to her today, but she still hoped she was wrong.

If she was right it meant Harry had never done as all the councilors he had seen had told him to do. It meant he hadn't listened to his friends and family, and worse, not to himself. If only Harry knew how much his presence affected people.

"Hermione?"

"I'm in here, Ron!"

She waited for Ron to enter, trying to calm herself down. She was ashamed to realize she had lost her temper on her best friend the night before, she didn't want to do the same now. Her main reason for doing it this way and not another was to prevent Harry from thinking they were ganging up on him. Hermione just wanted to know what was wrong, to have Harry express it so he could move beyond it. He had no idea what he was missing out on.

Harry came into the kitchen first, and Hermione smiled at him warmly. He looked on edge, and she really didn't blame him. Normally when he came over the twins bowled him over before he even got to say hello, but now they were nowhere in sight.

"Sit down," she encouraged, pushing out a chair next to her with her foot. Harry glanced at Ron nervously, before doing as he was told.

"What?"

Hermione grabbed one of his hands as Ron seated himself across from Harry. Harry licked his lips, staring between Ron and Hermione.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Hermione squeezed his hand with a sympathetic expression. She wondered what he was thinking, probably that they both had gone round the bend, but there was no helping that.

"We, Ron and I, want to talk to you."

"About?"

Did he have to be so suspicious, Hermione thought, her other hand worriedly seeking out Ron's beneath the table.

"You."

Harry's expression went surly. "Why me?"

"Because we're worried about you."

"Oh, so you mean all that yelling last night was for no reason?"

"Harry," Ron said his name with such authority that Harry almost looked betrayed. "You might be my best mate and all, but Hermione is my wife. And if you can't respect her, I'm going to have to kick you out."

"Fine." Harry made to stand.

"I'll also make you explain to the twins why their Uncle Harry won't be able to see them for quite a long time."

He sat again.

Hermione had hoped it wouldn't have to come to subtle threats like that. "Harry, just tell us what's the matter."

"What makes you think something is the matter with me? Eh, Hermione?" Harry shot back, his arms folding across his chest.

"Harry, that's not helping."

"Maybe I don't feel very helpful today."

"You're certainly feeling something though," she muttered, thinking up a new way to get Harry to open his mouth and tell them what was disturbing him. "Ginny--"

"Don't," Harry said immediately, holding up a hand. "Just… please don't."

Hermione sighed heavily. So she had been thinking correctly then. "It's the house, isn't it?"

"I see her everywhere," he croaked. Hermione let go of Ron's hands, poured some peppermint tea into an empty cup, and then handed it to Harry. The green-eyed man took it with shaking hands, but didn't drink any. "Every time I turn around she's there. I can't sleep without escaping her."

Hermione reached out, running a hand through his messy hair. "What happened?"

"I was dreaming." Ron's sharp intake of breath told her he knew where this was heading, just like she did. She was just amazed Harry still had yet to see the drawing on their refrigerator. "About Ginny," he continued like he hadn't noticed their reactions.

"And?"

"She was pregnant with Nathaniel, and Hermione, it was when we first felt him move. I could feel his foot against her skin, trace it even. He was right there." Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but neither Ron nor Hermione dared to stop him now that he got started to point it out. He scrubbed his face, discarding his glasses on the table. "And then I don't know what happened, but I closed my eyes and when I reopened them she wasn't there anymore. Someone else was. There has got to be something wrong with me, guys! Why the hell else would I dream of Malfoy in my bed?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, her smile turning affectionate and knowing. "Was that all?"

"Was that all? Isn't that enough?" he shouted. "Draco Malfoy has no place in my bed, even in my dreams!"

"Are you so sure of that?" The fact that it was Ron who spoke prevented Harry from speaking for a few moments. Hermione imagined that Harry was going into a bit of shock to hear Ron disagree with him like that. It certainly had surprised her to learn that her husband had gone and confronted Malfoy. The proposal that her Ron might be growing up filled her with hope that one day Harry might just do the same.

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few times, before he sank deeper into the wooden chair. "I loved Ginny."

"Harry, you can love more than one person in a lifetime," Hermione stated calmly. She watched as the idea settled in Harry's mind and smiled at his hesitant grin. It was clear that it would take a bit more persuasion to get Harry around to her and Ron's way of seeing things, but she had faith that it would happen given time. They had plenty of that. All this left Hermione feeling very satisfied, and she pushed the teacup towards Harry once more. "Drink your tea."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Notes:** Written for the anonymous exchange on livejournal at hpslashnotsmut. The request was for plot post HBP where Harry had to deal with Draco after the events of the book and that they still get into a relationship. Also she wanted mentor!Snape and it's Snape, who am I to resist that request?

Beta'd by Rakina, Arenas, and Xos2ed

* * *

_Part Five_

Harry's return back to the house in Swaledale caused little fuss, aside from Misty following him around. He supposed it had been mean of him to leave his faithful companion behind like that. Malfoy, on the other hand, just kept a wary watch on him, never saying more than a few words at a time.

Sometimes they would still bicker, but things quickly fell into routine, one that they both accepted as necessary. The only time they held any conversation was when they went to the market, and then it was politely strained at best. Harry was beginning to get frustrated with the way things were going, but the only problem was, he had no idea of how to fix it.

He was still pondering how to make the situation more comfortable than it was when there was a soft knock on his office door. He always retreated to that area of the house when he wanted to escape now, and the only person who ever bothered to intrude upon his solitude was Misty, but this was a knock, not a scratching at his door.

Harry moved hastily to shut the file he had been perusing. He opened up the bottom drawer of his desk and stuffed the flimsy folder into it.

Shutting it with his foot, he called out: "Come in!"

The doorknob turned so slowly that Harry wondered if he was imagining it. Eventually, the door opened a crack and Draco peered around it nervously. Harry observed the stilted way in which Draco entered his office, taking in the sparsely decorated walls and shelves.

"Potter."

"Are you all right?"

Draco froze, scowling. "I'm fine."

Harry arched a brow and said nothing. He gestured towards the overstuffed armchair that was next to the only bookshelf in the house. Draco moved hesitantly forward, sitting down with an uncomfortable expression. Harry got the sense that Draco thought he was going to kick him out. It amused him.

"Granger called," Draco said after a moment.

"She did?" Harry groaned and ran a hand down his face. "What did she want?"

Draco shrugged and gazed out the window. "Something about a pi—"

"Oh Merlin, the picnic is this weekend?"

Harry stood up and circled the desk so he was leaning against it. Draco smirked, relaxing. _Typical_ , Harry thought, but there was no malice behind it. _Malfoy would feel better when I'm on edge_. He exhaled, grabbing up the bouncy ball that resided on his desk. He tossed it in the air a few times as he tried to figure out a way to ask Malfoy to join them. He'd been planning on getting the blond out of the house and out of this town for quite sometime and he hadn't seen an opportunity to do it before now.

"Does she want me to call her back?"

Draco hummed noncommittally, his eyes following the rigid trajectory of the bright pink rubber ball. Harry grinned lopsidedly and tossed back the toy his nieces had left the last time they had visited when Draco had still been a living statue. The other man caught it in his hand with a puzzled expression that made Harry wonder if giving it to him had been a good idea.

After a moment of inspection, Draco dropped the bouncy ball and let it bounce off the floor and back into his hands. Harry rolled his eyes and hopped up onto the corner of his desk, holding out his hands. Draco took the hint and bounced the ball in Harry's direction. The 24-year-old caught it easily and tossed it back, watching as it hit the floor twice before Draco caught it gracefully in one hand.

"Draco," Harry began nervously, catching and releasing the pink object once more.

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry blinked, startled. Draco was smirking at him, but for all the good it did, it could have been a smile. Harry laughed, running a hand through his hair. In that moment, Draco bounced the ball a bit harder than normal and Harry had to lean back on his desk to catch the flying toy.

"What would you say if I asked you to go with me this Saturday?"

"I'd say you've gone crazy," he drawled, catching the ball and twisting it between his fingers thoughtfully, "and then agree because there is only so much one can take of being locked up."

"I'm sorry about all of this," Harry said, gesturing in a big circle.

Draco waved him off, bouncing the ball back to Harry with more care than the last time. "You did the right thing."

"What do you mean?" Harry paused, his arm poised to release the bouncy ball once more. He lowered his hand to his lap, setting aside the toy for the moment. He'd bring it with them on Saturday. Amanda would tease him about it, and Brigit would steal it back when she thought he wasn't looking.

"I know, about how close you were to losing your job," Draco admitted, staring down at his lap. They hadn't talked very deeply about how Draco had got there, except for the fact that he was there as part of a Ministry program and his mental and physical health were continually monitored by the cold, metal bracelet on each of their arms.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. The truth seemed like a good option, but how would Draco react to finding out he had been staying in Harry's flat for four days? The blond wasn't even aware that this was Harry's house yet.

"Who told you?"

"Weasley."

Harry sighed and rubbed his nose, observing Malfoy beneath lowered lashes. "Draco?" Striking grey eyes met his own and for a moment he forgot what he was about to say. "Erm—"

"Erm? Harry, that's fairly inarticulate even for you."

"Come with me to the picnic on Saturday?"

Draco snorted, yet he grinned and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. The thought that the other man would say 'no' hadn't even crossed his mind.

"All right."

Harry blinked. "You mean it?"

"Yes."

Harry leaned back on his palms and exhaled. He wasn't about to say how relieved he was that Draco had agreed. Picking up the bouncy ball once again, he tossed it back.

* * *

Saturday morning came faster than either man had anticipated. Harry woke with a start to the sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window. Misty was sleeping at the end of his bed, curled in a ball. Leaning forward, Harry stroked his cat's fur. Misty stretched, blinking her green eyes at him in irritation. He rolled his eyes, swung his feet over the edge of the bed, and stood. 

He stretched his arms over his head, gazing around him in amusement. It had been a long time since he had wanted to get out of bed this early at the weekend. With a smile, he left his bedroom, pausing just outside of Draco's room. He listened intently, trying to hear if there was any movement inside. He knocked twice and stepped back.

After a long moment, the door opened to show Draco finishing buttoning a pair of trousers. Harry swallowed thickly, and flushed, looking away.

"Yes?"

"You may want to wear short sleeves today," Harry mumbled down the hallway.

"Come again?" Harry could almost hear the smirk on the other man's face. Steeling himself, he brought his gaze back to Draco.

"I said you might want to wear short sleeves."

Draco's eyes roved over Harry's body and it was then that he realized that he was shirtless. He haltingly moved to cover his upper body with one arm. Harry bit his lip. This was not how he had intended to start this morning. "I'll just go and make some tea."

Draco reached out, touching Harry's stubble-covered jaw with a look of deep concentration. "You always do that."

"Do what?" Harry whispered meekly. Draco's fingers were still caressing his face, each pad drawing a flush from the other man's skin.

"Make tea."

"You don't like tea?"

Draco's smirk softened into a smile, and his fingers feathered over Harry's lips once before falling. "I love tea."

Harry felt miles behind as Draco pulled away, shutting the door as he shook his head in amusement. What had just happened? He brought a hand up to his unshaven face in bewilderment. The tea he said he was going to make sounded particularly good at that moment.

* * *

They made their way down the dirt road towards the center of town, hands brushing casually every so often. Wild flowers that grew along the road had their petals open wide to soak up the rays. Their purples and pinks mixed in with the lush green grass growing amongst them that covered all the hills. Cattle could be heard lowing in the distance, as could sheep bleating in the fields. Bees flitted between the flowers collecting their pollen, transferring it amongst the other flowers so they could reproduce the next year. 

Neither man commented when their fingers inexplicably became entangled together. The warm July sun beat down on them as they strolled along. Hermione, Ron and the twins were waiting for them in the field just outside of the market's square, and Harry wondered how this meeting would go. The last time Draco had interacted with the twins it had been comical, to him anyway.

"Are you sure you want to come?"

"For Merlin's sake Harry, yes. I said I did, and I haven't changed my mind."

Harry fell silent for a moment, but couldn't resist asking, "You do know the twins will be there too, right?"

"I rather assumed they would be, yes," Draco drawled, squeezing Harry's hand tightly. Harry smiled weakly. He knew that he was being pushy about it; he just felt like everything was about to collapse on him. Sure, he had gone out with Oliver many times before, but this was the first time that he was actually afraid of messing things up beyond repair. He wasn't even sure if he could consider this a date.

The thought rather amused him as well. Him and Malfoy out on a date. They were going on a picnic. Sure, Ron and Hermione would be there with Amanda and Brigit, but it didn't matter. To think, only three months ago, he was panicking about having Draco live in his house. Only three months before, he thought Draco was one of the worst thing to happen in his entire life. Now, he was still unsure of what was happening between them, but he knew it wasn't bad.

Their laced fingers hung between them, but the space between the two of them was closing as they wound down the hill, and nearly disappeared behind the hill. Their shoulders brushed together as they finally made it into the heart of the town. Harry tugged on Draco's hand, pulling him down a road he hadn't been down before.

"Last chance to back out."

"If I didn't know better," Draco smirked, "I'd think you didn't want me to go."

Harry felt his cheeks heat from embarrassment and masked it by looking in the opposite direction. Draco snickered and that just caused Harry to blush harder. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the end of the road, hitting the dead end just as Harry had expected.

"UNCLE HARRY!"

"DRACO!"

Twin cries rang out across the field and Harry held out his arms as the human missiles hurtled across the grassy field straight into his and--to his pleasure--Draco's arms. The blond grunted when tiny arms went around his waist and a head burrowed against his stomach. Harry caught his eye and winked as he lifted Brigit off the ground and spun her around in dizzying circles.

"How's my favorite niece?"

"Hey!" Amanda cried out at the injustice. "What about me?"

"Well, what about you?" he asked, glancing at Draco who was still indecisive about what he was going to do with the child that had suddenly become attached to him. Hesitantly, the blond haired, grey-eyed man picked the girl up.

"I thought I was your favorite!"

"You are?" Harry cocked his head to the side, both as an indication to Draco to move and to emphasize his innocent confusion. "I'm sorry. Then you must be my favorite."

Amanda preened and stuck her nose up in the air. Brigit's indignant squawk echoed across the empty meadow and Harry kissed her temple. "You're still my one and only," he whispered, so Amanda couldn't hear. It wasn't the truth, he loved both little girls equally and for different reasons, but so long as they never caught wind of what he would tell the other, he was safe.

Harry waved at Hermione as they drew near the massive blanket, clearly enhanced by magic, beneath a cluster of trees. Harry and Draco set down the twins, and they were off like a shot, chasing each other through the tall grass and wildflowers.

"New sundresses?" Harry asked, watching as the youngest set of Weasley twins chased after a butterfly.

Hermione nodded with an indulgent smile. She pulled out a bottle of water from her bag and offered it to him. "They had outgrown the ones from last year."

"They're cute," Draco said, blinking in shock that he had said it in the first place. Harry grinned, nodding his thanks at his friend as he took the water.

"I thought so," Hermione agreed without missing a beat. "How are you, Draco?"

Harry shifted closer to Draco, his fingers resting just a few inches away from the other man's. He had to smother his grin when the blond relaxed, his hand moving to cover Harry's. Harry took a sip of water before handing it to Draco who took it soundlessly and sipped tentatively before handing it back.

"Fine."

"That's good to hear. We were worried, weren't we Ron?" She nudged her dozing husband in the ribs and he shot upright, eyes wide and startled.

"Yes! Whatever she said, the answer is 'yes.'"

Draco snorted, and turned his head away to hide his smirk. Harry caught Draco's eyes and held their attention for a few seconds--just long enough for the ice to melt in the blue eyes. Harry's heart skipped a bit, and he bet that he was turning that shade of red again. Fingers ran up and down his bare arm in lazy strokes, and he decided that, for once, he was just going to enjoy the day.

Hermione slowly unpacked her bag, bringing out fruits and vegetables and some sandwiches. The low buzz of bugs in the treetops droned on, causing Harry to become sleepy. He leaned against Draco hesitantly, amazed once again when he wasn't pushed away. Even with Oliver, he hadn't allowed himself this comfort. Draco's arm went around his shoulder, bringing him even closer.

Amanda and Brigit's giggling could be heard as they tumbled and did somersaults through the drying grass. Harry's eyes slipped shut. A faint smile appeared on his lips when Draco rested his head on top of his. He already knew Ron and Hermione accepted this and the twins would be ecstatic. Before he had left Ron and Hermione's home for the last time, they had handed him the drawing the twins had collaborated on showing Harry and Draco holding hands on the sofa in Harry's flat. Harry was in his Auror robes, the normally duller orange lining vibrant as a pumpkin, but still unmistakable. The fact that they could tell just looking at Draco what type of clothing was normal for him had been the surprise. The blond had been depicted in black trousers and a white collared top, classy, especially when drawn by two four-year-olds who didn't even know what classy was.

"So, have you thought of getting a job?" Ron asked, biting into an apple. The loud crunch drew Harry away from his thoughts and back to the picnic itself. Draco's jaw tensed, but it was the only outward sign that Harry noticed that he didn't know what to say.

"As what?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. There is a vegetable garden behind the house you're staying at."

"How do you know that?"

Harry froze, shooting Ron a pleading look not to say anything. He noticed Hermione's subtle pinch to Ron's side in warning. This picnic was supposed to be a relaxed affair.

"All places have them here," Ron offered, waving his hand as if that were obvious.

There was a tense silence following that answer and Harry only hoped Draco would let it go for the moment. Draco slowly relaxed, rubbing his cheek against Harry's hair as he settled again.

Amanda's loud cry of anguish broke through the tension more effectively.

"Daddy!"

"Yes, sweetie?" Ron called, shading his eyes as he looked over at his daughter. Amanda came running toward them and Harry reluctantly pulled away from Draco when she headed straight for him. She crashed into his arms, burying her tear-streaked face in his blue polo shirt. Harry stayed still from shock before his arms wrapped around her, hushing her.

Amanda sniffled, her tiny fists digging into his sides. "Bridie-Bridie pushed me down Uncle Harry, and it...it hurts real, real bad."

"What does, darling?"

He heard Draco hiss and glanced at the blond just in time to see him carefully lift her arm, inspecting her bloodied elbow. Harry grimaced. It wasn't a deep scrape by any means, but even he knew how much that hurt.

"Make it better," Amanda cried, peeking at Draco to see what he would do. Harry wiped at her tears with a napkin, careful not to rub to hard, while her attention was on Draco.

_Kiss it_, Harry mouthed at the blond. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust; Harry didn't blame him--there was still dirt on it--but he knew that Amanda wouldn't stop whimpering until someone did it. With great reluctance, Draco bent down, pressing a kiss to the torn skin. Harry grinned, dropping a kiss on Amanda's curly red hair when she cried out. But, like he knew she would, Amanda stopped crying.

"All better?" Harry asked, gaining her attention again. She nodded, her ponytail bobbing. "Good, now go see Mummy and she will heal it. All right?"

"'Kay, Uncle Harry." She clambered off his lap and crossed the large blanket, stepping over the pile of food at the center, and then kneeling in front of Hermione. The witch pulled out her wand and calmly cast the healing spell, the skin healing over good as new. "Thank you, Mummy."

Hermione beamed, hiding her wand back in her bag. "You're welcome, baby. Now go get Brigit and tell her it's time for lunch."

* * *

Fingers interlaced once more, they headed up the dirt path in silence. Draco knew something had been bothering Harry for the later part of the afternoon, but he hadn't asked in front of Granger or Weasley. Trees lining one side of the hill made the path darker than the oncoming night, throwing shadows over them from the leaves above. 

"Harry?"

No answer. Draco scowled, not liking to be ignored.

"What's the matter?"

"Hm?"

"Harry." Draco pulled on his arm, forcing Harry to stop in his tracks. They were already halfway up the large hill leading to the house. Draco didn't know what Harry's problem was, but he was going to find out and stop the other man's thoughts before they spiraled out of control. He hadn't even noticed that Harry had gone silent until they were getting ready to leave the picnic. Harry's face had been pale and drawn, unlike the earlier, carefree expression, and he would be damned if he was going to be ignored any longer. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, pulling his hand away.

Draco stared at him with a gobsmacked expression. There was no reason for this. None at all. He had played nice with the Weasel and Granger; he had made it a point not to scare off the children, and this was the thanks he got? A quiet, withdrawn Potter? A hell of a consolation prize.

"For what?" Draco growled, grabbing Harry's elbow. Harry's eyes flicked between the hand on his arm to Draco's face, and then back again. With infuriating calm, the other man shrugged. "Bloody hell, Potter, just spit it out already!"

"Fine, do you want to know what's wrong?" Harry shouted, rounding on him, eyes flashing. Draco took an uneasy step backwards. There was no telling what Harry would do when angry. "I'll tell you!"

"Then tell me," Draco said, his voice low and soothing. He perched himself on a boulder a few feet away, drawing his knees up to his chest as he waited.

"After Voldemort's defeat, I wanted to escape the pressures of the Wizarding World. I couldn't do what they wanted me to--not then, anyway--so I moved to the most remote location I could find."

"You moved here?"

Harry nodded, beginning to pace back and forth on the dirt road. Draco watched him wearily. Harry's agitation was starting to wear off on him and that irked him. "I did."

"And the house?"

"Is mine," Harry replied, pausing his pacing long enough to meet Draco's eyes. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not for me. You have no issues with it housing a former Death Eater?"

"I did at one point, yes," Harry exhaled, running a hand through his messy hair.

Draco tilted his head to the side. "What changed?"

"Me."

"Let's be frank, Potter, you haven't changed much at all."

"You don't remember the things I called you in the Ministry cell."

"Like," Draco prompted, curious to hear what sort of things Harry had wanted to say to him for all those years. It seemed highly unlikely to him that what Harry said was anything of real damage, but the fearful look on the green-eyed Auror's face was enough to worry him. At the very least what Harry had said affected him in some way because there was no reason for the flat-out refusal he received.

"I don't want to repeat the things I said then; I don't even want to think about them."

"All right then. Don't."

"Good, I won't," Harry snapped. He shook his head, and looked up at the darkening sky as if it held answers. Draco suspected that they didn't, but he wasn't going to point that out. It took great effort to not say something derogatory about Harry's scattered thoughts. Wind ruffled his hair and he shivered.

"Ginny moved in with me," Harry finally continued, his voice soft and reminiscing. "She flourished here. The garden in front of the house was overflowing with flowers and vegetables. Everything was full of life, but nothing in that garden could outshine her."

"You loved her."

"I married her."

Draco didn't know what to say to that. He was surprised that Harry had gotten married, but at the same time he wasn't. Why wouldn't Harry get married? With the threat of Voldemort gone, starting a family would have been safe again.

"Oh."

"Draco--"

Draco cut him off before he could ask his question. He was fine, he didn't have to repeat himself every five minutes. "Continue."

"Two months later, we found out she was pregnant. It was possibly the happiest moment in my life. I had never thought I'd live to see any children of my own, and here was this beautiful woman who loved me enough to wait for the war to end...she was giving me a son."

Draco arched a brow when Harry paused in his narrative. He wasn't sure where this was going, but since there wasn't a ring on Potter's finger he guessed it wasn't going to end well. The image of a little boy with black hair and brown eyes swam before his eyes, and he had to shake it away. If Potter still had the kid, he certainly would have met him already whether he wanted to or not.

"We were happy. Our lives were good, the neighbors here were friendly and considerate and took us in as if we had lived here our entire lives...and then the accident happened."

"Accident?"

Harry sighed, hugging himself tightly, his pacing becoming more agitated and frantic. "We should have known better; nothing ever lasts for me. We just should have known better." Green eyes met grey and held them. Draco was horrified once again to see Harry crying when he had been fine moments before. "We were going to go to the top of the hill by our house to watch the sunset and we just never saw him."

"Who?" Draco was up and heading towards Harry, before the other man even got the chance to answer.

"I don't know," Harry snapped, chest heaving. "No one ever found the bastard. And I looked, for years. It's like he never existed in the first place. For a little while people even suspected me. Me! I loved her, Draco; she was my everything and they had the gall to blame me!"

"Harry," Draco stopped a few feet from where Harry was standing. "What happened?"

Harry shook his head, running a hand down his face repeatedly. "He stunned me before I could even get my wand out of my pocket. It had been so long since we had seen another wizard that our defenses had been down. Draco, I—I couldn't move and I couldn't turn away as he killed her. One simple spell and she and Nathaniel were dead. I never even got to see the bastard's face."

Draco took a step closer. "You named the child?"

Harry's voice broke, "Afterwards, yes. They asked me to. It was the name Ginny had picked out."

Draco sighed, as Harry turned away from him, his shoulders shaking in what Draco suspected were silent sobs. Didn't he get it? What had happened to him was terrible to be certain, but he didn't have to deal with it alone any longer. Draco would make certain of that. He moved to stand in front of Harry, unsurprised when the bespectacled man turned his head away in embarrassment and fear of rejection.

"Harry, look at me." He ran a knuckle down Harry's cheek, waiting patiently for the other man to see him. "Look at me." Slowly, Harry turned to face him, and his expression warmed. "Took you long enough."

"I can leave if you want me to," Harry whispered thickly. "I'm sorry that you can't, so sorry, but I can and will--"

Draco smiled genuinely, cupping Harry's chin in his hand, causing Harry to falter and to fall silent. His thumb ran over the black-haired man's bottom lip, earning a noticeable shiver. He wanted so badly for Harry to feel better, but he didn't know how to make that happen. This was not something he was used to doing, comforting someone else. For so long it had been someone else who was always there for him, he had been the one to be offered support, even when unnecessary. There was, however, one thing that he knew he could do. He could only hope it wouldn't make things worse. The sun set completely behind them as Draco pulled him forward, kissing him softly. Their breath mingled as he pulled back.

Harry was trembling now, his head butting forward, unable to tear his eyes away. Tears were still shimmering on his lashes, and Draco reached out, dabbing them away.

Harry lowered his eyes, and his next question was asked so softly that Draco wasn't even certain he heard it. "Why?"

"Because I want to, Harry."

And that was enough for him.

_Finis _


End file.
